Scarlet Love
by o4o86
Summary: /REALLY old work from highschool./ Dilandau and a girl named Deré--whoever said life was easy, or that love conquers all? A girl goes to the Vione and does not become a dragonslayer. Celena is separate from Dilandau and deeply in love with Folken.
1. Intro

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: General/Romance/Angst

Warnings: Depressing at times and moves at a slightly slower place than anticipated.

Pairings: Dilandau/Deré [OC], Folken/Celena

O4o86*~


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: General/Romance/Angst

Warnings: Depressing at times, moves at a slightly slower place than anticipated.

Scarlet Love

Chapter 1

The girl looked up at the dark cloudy sky. Through the sunroof she could see no stars tonight. She thought about what had happened, of today. She touched the spot where he had left his mark, in a secret place deep inside of her. She wondered, _will things still be the same? But, of course they would_.

She was being silly again. How could he? Why would he, if ever . . . There was no reason. She should not think of such things. She was just his tool, his instrument, nothing more and could never be something more. He is her master and always will be. Even though sometimes, she wished, hoped, and fantasized that it would be different. That they could be something else, something closer, and more . . . She knew that it was hopeless. The girl sighed, shrinking back against the wall of the large empty room, the room that they shared, where it had all happened since the beginning.

Deré was her name, a lost girl who lived on the streets, constantly plagued by hunger, exhaustion, and filth. She had been wandering for days? Months? Years? She did not know. She had not kept track of time.

It seemed like forever that her life had been in this state. Why, she didn't even remember how old she was anymore. It was so long ago since anything but hunger and sleep had occupied her mind. She tried to think back to the reason that had lead her and trapped her in this miserable way of life, but she could not. No matter how hard she tried—nothing. She remembered nothing. It was as if something was preventing her from reaching the secrets carefully locked away, almost as if she didn't want to remember.

Every day was a repetition; a sea of people gliding past her, men, women, children, couples arm in arm. She would sit there and watch, too tired to get up, too hungry to sleep. The days passed, drifting from morning till night, from darkness to light. It was all the same to her. Once in a while, she would walk along the crowd, but they all avoided her, directing their eyes away. It had bothered her many times, and made her sad. She wanted something without knowing what it was.

One rainy day through her mindless wandering, Deré stumbled into the arms of a stranger. In haste, she tried to mutter in a weak voice, _excuse me, I'm sorry_, but found all proficiency of speech lost as she looked into the bright green eyes of a young man, age eighteen perhaps? She could not tell. But what had attracted her gaze towards him was his gaze in return. There was no disgust, no pity, just an implacable sadness. Almost as if he knew exactly how she felt. All this time through her mental and physical struggles, as if he had spent every moment with her and knew exactly what she was thinking.

Falling into a trance, she could not turn away from his face, those bright, emerald-green eyes. Was it the rain that gave them such a longing appeal, so warm and full of life? All she knew was that she wanted to stay there, forever drowning in his eyes. All of a sudden, she realized that the ground below had disappeared as he had lifted her into his arms, carrying her away. Unable to speak, she let him carry her. She didn't care, didn't think about where he might be taking her. There was only one simple thought in her mind—_let this moment last forever_. And it did, it would be forever imprinted in her heart.

She had been working for a total of six months, almost half a year now. Eden was his name. He was the owner of a pub and it was he who had rescued her. She liked to think of it that way, that she was a princess in distress and he had rescued her.

Eden had taken one look at the girl standing before him that rainy day and felt a jolt in his heart. It was something that he couldn't describe. Maybe it was the strong aura of her very essence when he had neared her. Such hopefulness. And her eyes, which had been intently locked onto his, were inescapable. She was a very beautiful girl, _an albino perhaps_, with long silvery-white hair flowing like a fountain down to her waist. Covered in bits of dirt and leaves, parts of it were tangled and unmanageable. He had wanted to straighten it, comb it and brush it until it shined. Then there were her eyes, misty from the rain and so very blue, but also with something dark hidden within, something painful and sad. At that moment, he had swept her off her feet and held her in his arms. He could feel the frailness of her body against him, so fragile, so delicate. Her small hand had reached up towards his face for a moment, before falling limp again as she had shut her eyes. She had been so silent and unmoving that for a second, he had feared the worst. But to his relief, a closer look at the steady rise and fall of her chest promised that she was only in a deep sleep. He had sworn to himself then, to care of her.

Deré was more grateful than she could ever express in words. The affection that Eden showed her was more than she could ask for. He looked after her, fed her, clothed her, and much more . . . she thought he loved her. _He is so gentle, in the night, beside me, his eyes so full of love._ _Am I imaging this?_ She always wondered. It must be a dream. It must be one of those dreams where you wake up and are again, cold and hungry, on the streets with no where to go to, no one to turn to. A familiar sadness etched itself across her face.

But she never had to dwell on these insecurities for long, because he would always be there by her side. It was these times that he would hold her and reassure her that everything was alright, that she wasn't dreaming, that he was real, and with her. Except, this happiness was too good to be true, for Deré's life was one that lay snuggly within the twisted hands of fate. And as she would soon find out, it was one destined to be submerged within loneliness.

_He's letting me go_, thought Deré. _Why is he doing this?_ Why was he letting her slip away from him? She thought he had loved her, that he cared. _What is this? Anger? Burning inside? _She had never felt anger before, not in her known memories. There was nothing to be angry about. Her state of living was a mystery, it did not inspire anger. Looking back one last time, she reached out to those bright green eyes, now watery _with tears_? But he turned away and would not meet her. Eden slowly retreated back to his pub, back to his life before her.

This new man did not have green emerald eyes, nor were they bright or full of life. Her new 'master', Dilandau-sama, was a 17 year old boy with eyes of blood-red. Saturated with something she could not understand, could not comprehend. It was a mix of something between anger and hatred, confusion and pain. She cried silently, feeling empty inside. She would be alone again. After meeting Eden, she had felt happy, safe even, but everything she had treasured in the last half year disappeared before her, fading away like rain-clouds washing away sunshine.

The present fell from her thoughts as her surroundings became faint and slowly disappeared. She did not look at Dilandau-sama and his eerie smile, and she did not react to the way he touched her face. In her mind was a white room with no windows or doors. It was just a plain, white room. She did not feel claustrophobic, but there was a feeling. _Was it pain? _No, she was not in pain. She had not loved him. It was the other way around, but she needed him. It was a sense of loss. He was someone she needed, desperately. She needed to be loved, cherished, and he had given her all that. And yet, he had let her go. He had sold her to some General Dilandau Albatou of Zaibach, explaining, "This is for the best."

Those were his last words, not _goodbye_, not _I'll still love you_, not even an apology. She felt trapped, left alone, so alone. Unconsciously, she turned her head towards the window, leaning her forehead slightly against the cool glass without noticing his eyes on her at all. Instead, she was enclosed in the deep crevasse of her mind, troubled by questions. Who would she turn to? Who could she cry to?

The carriage swayed rhythmically with the trotting of horse-like creatures. Dilandau studied the girl beside him. She was very beautiful, even in simple maid's clothes. He would fix that when they returned to camp. She had silver hair, just like him, which somehow made her even more appealing. It shone, as moonlight hit each strand. But that was not why he had taken her, not because of her appearance. There was something else, something about her, something mysterious that he wanted to possess.

She sat quietly next to him with her hands carefully folded in her lap, eyes closed. _What is she thinking_, he wondered. The way she seemed so peaceful and serene, with an air of tranquility surrounding her, amazed him. Was she not aware of his identity? Was she oblivious of what he did with girls such as her? Never before had he met someone so calm, Folken being an exception. Perhaps it was because everyone trembled beneath him, feared him. Perhaps they were afraid and supposed that he would never tolerate such calmness that clashed boldly with his own disoriented mind. However, she aroused neither irritation nor annoyance. In fact, she made him feel relaxed and _happy_? No, that wasn't the word. Content perhaps, yes content. Dilandau placed these thoughts aside, allowing himself to drift off, giving in to exhaustion and sleep.

There was a sudden halt as the carriage came to a stop. He cursed at being awoken in such a manner but the girl seemed unaffected. There remained that lack of expression on her face, peaceful yet strange. He stroked her cheek gently and she opened her eyes. It was unnatural, her eyes, hollow and devoid of life. He paused for a second, staring at her in wonder.

"Dilandau-sama?" the girl questioned. It was the first time she had spoken since they left the pub. The odd moment had passed and her eyes reverted back to its original shade of blue, a light, misty blue. He did not reply. A few of the dragonslayers had seen their lord's carriage and hurried over to form the beginnings of two straight lines.

Deré sat alone in the carriage. It was early morning and the air drafted in a thick fog as rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds. The rain had stopped and the sky was slowly clearing up. She raised a hand to pull back stray locks of hair. She was thinking about many things, where she was, what she would be doing . . . but most of all, of him. Eden. _How was he doing? Did he miss her? Was there regret? _She thought about his face, his smile, and his voice that seemed so far away. He was so different from Dilandau-sama. Her master frightened her. He was so cold and distant, staring through her with those eyes, those unreadable blood-red eyes. She sighed, a shaky, sad exhale of breath. Then, the door of the carriage opened.

They were walking towards a red tent amidst blue ones. _How appropriate,_ she thought. The boy leading her was of the same age as Dilandau-sama. In fact, she noticed that they were all about the same age, and that there were no women present. All of the boys were dressed in a shiny blue armor, similar to the red one that her master wore. They seemed to stare as she walked by, making her feel more than just a little uncomfortable. She hugged herself in a manner that one would have thought she was cold. A crispy wind blew through her hair as she heard the boy stop. She did not realized that they had reached their destination already, or that _he_ was standing in front of them. Dilandau said something sharply and the boy left, his face downcast. Without an exchange of words, he beckoned her into the red tent.

The space was small. In one corner was a large cot with red pillows and red sheets, perfectly portraying a touch of his fiery nature. To its side was a simple little stool, hand-carved and polished. She knelt down slowly and felt its smooth surface. The wood felt cool against her skin. _Did he make this? _It seemed rather odd and out of place; the mildness of the stool in contrast with the rest of her surroundings. She noticed that the floor was composed of dirt, save for a furry carpet on which the stool sat. His gentleness with her was rather strange as well, because she sensed something hidden beneath his cool demeanor, something untamed and distorted. She wondered why he had bought her. The thought made her sick. The way she was _sold _to him as if she were some common possession such as a stool. It made her upset and she sat down on the stool, mentally laughing. Marking circles on the fur carpet beneath her feet, Deré huddled, alone in the tent. The wind blew and she hugged herself tighter.

O4o86

Last revised: 02/23/05


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

She stared at the room, his room—_Dilandau-sama's_.

Spiraling downward from a sunlit window and ribbons of red, one could rose petals scattered over a large canopy bed. Scarlet sheets draped across the bodies of a man and women, tangled amidst feign love. She lay unmoving; blue eyes open in awe. White butterflies fluttered about an enormous sunroof; beautiful yet trapped. She blinked as beams of light flickered in between slits of transparent red fabric, crisscrossing its way down from the ceiling to the bed. Deré tilted her head slightly to study the sleeping figure beside her. She thought he resembled an angle, _such soft features_. So different than when he was awake. In this state, he seemed incapable of evil, veiled in purity. She gazed closely at his face, committing his characteristics to memory. A decision was made then, as a painful stab of empathy pierced her heart. _I will help him, discover him, understand him._ For reasons she did not know, she felt a compelling need to heal him.

The previous night was not one that she would like to remember. She had received a part of him. Everything he was burdened with, whatever it was, a portion of it had passed through to her. She felt it, a cascade of emotions. It was the feelings that his troubled mind could no longer harbor alone, and yet had no other way of venting. She wanted to know more. There is a reason for everything, so is the way of life. She wanted to find out who her master really was beneath his layers of pretense, deep inside. Under the moonlight he was silent, his touch harsh, his fingers gripping and raking her skin. But there was meaning, an explanation. It was all a language that she would come to know; his silent language. A massive mirror resembling a life-sized canvas occupied a wall, showing an image from a storybook. It was one of a girl and her lover, together in peaceful slumber with his arm around her waist. Their love bathed in sunlight, rose petals, and symbolic reds. It was a familiar scene from somewhere she could not remember.

Breakfast was fit for a king, never had she seen so much food in one place. Her stomach growled with desire, reminding her of just how hungry she was from the previous day's travel. They had rode non-stop from dawn till considerably pass midnight and upon arrival, Dilandau demanded sleep.

She watched him enter the room, his boots tapping lightly against the marble floor as he walked. Sitting down swiftly, Dilandau began his meal in silence. He neither spoke nor looked her way. _It's as if nothing happened last night._ She was disappointed, having looked forward to conversing with him. There were so many questions that she needed to ask him, about his childhood, his family; so many things. However, she also knew that it was not her place. He was thinking to himself, she noticed, eating automatically without tasting his food.

They were packing, she and Dilandau-sama. He had received a message soon after dinner from someone by the name of Lord Folken. Deré watched as Dilandau readied his luggage, his movements fast and simple, never hesitant. _It's as if he's done this countless times and knows exactly what to bring._ He glanced at her questioningly, "Are you finished?"

"Yes Dilandau-sama. I've gathered all the items you have given me." She wanted to add, _where are we going and will we be coming back, _but thought better of it. He didn't seem like the type to be questioned.

She waited for a reply but none came. Instead, he was scowling at the freshly made bed, scattered with fragrant rose petals. Furrowing his brow, he stopped what he was doing and summoned a servant. A youthful girl arrived in a hurry, her voice shaking as she spoke, "How may I serve you, Dilandau-sama?"

Deré watched in horror as Dilandau slapped the girl hard across the face. In the blur of a second, she was sprawled on the floor, her hand against the red mark that had appeared on her cheek.

"Tell Elizabeth, anymore of these silly flower petals on my bed and I'll be paying her another unhappy visit." A small grin and a wicked flame flickered in his eyes before he went back to what he was doing, ignoring the helpless servant.

The girl rose quickly, bowed, and left with tears trailing behind her. Deré felt a pang of sadness for the unfortunate girl and immense shock towards her master. But strangely, there was no fear. She continued to study him and his cold demeanor, realizing just how challenging the task before her was. She took one last look at the beautiful room and the rose petals on the bed. They would be leaving in an hour's time for the Vione—floating fortress of Zaibach.

Deré stretched her arms out, catching handfuls of clouds from the window in her room. _So high! I feel like flying. Such Freedom, I feel liberated just thinking about it. Reaching for the sky, going somewhere, somewhere free of loneliness and despair, somewhere that didn't exist._ There were layers upon layers of white and blue beneath her and for a moment, she considered doing it, leaping for freedom.

The Vione had many rooms and corridors similar to a maze-like labyrinth. She had been living here for a few weeks now, but all she knew and saw was her room. It was quite small, consisting of a double bed and a night stand with a lamp. There was also an adjoining bathroom. Deré walked about in the confined space. She was bored and debating with herself whether or not she should venture forth and leave the safety of the room. She decided to become more familiar with her surroundings, because in case something happened, she had better know where to go.

_One turn left, two right, then another two left, or was it right?_ Confused and lost, she let out an exasperated breath. Maybe exploring hadn't been such a great idea. She couldn't remember which way she had come and it felt like she was going around in circles, having passed the same storage room many times, _or was it a different one? _Giving a frustrated pout, she headed for a nearby balcony. But it was already occupied. A tall figure in a long black cape, wrapped around his entire body, turned to face her. Deré found herself taking a step back, not knowing what to do. Pale green, spiky hair and a tattoo defined his face; on his right cheek, a single purple tear. She wondered about its significance, _a symbol of loss; sadness? _

"You must be the girl that Dilandau brought." She couldn't tell whether he approved or disapproved as he spoke his words with an expressionless face, or maybe it was just that he didn't care. But since he had called her master by only his name and with no formality, she supposed that his man must either be one of his close friends or also a high ranking individual. She hoped that this person was Dilandau-sama's friend, because he seemed like he really needed one. "Yes, my name is Deré."

"How old are you, Deré?" He posed this question in a friendly manner, even though his face remained vacant and his tone of voice unchanged; very different from the demanding tone of Dilandau-sama. As she felt more at ease with him, she explained her situation and the reason she was ignorant of her age.

"I see. And so you have accompanied him here. I believe you to be approximately sixteen or seventeen, judging by appearance of course. However, we all understand that appearances can be deceiving." And with that, the man walked away. "I am Lord Folken. I look forward to chatting with you again."

She stood there, dumbfounded. _That was Lord Folken, the one who had requested Dilandau-sama! How strange he is! Why was he standing here all alone? Oh! I forgot to ask him the way back to my room! _She hurried off after scolding herself.

While wandering, Deré crept into her mind's space again_. I feel that all the people around me are unhappy. Dilandau-sama for certain. I see the way he treats his slayers, those poor boys who must fight and kill. He is cruel, punishing them for the slightest error. They are so loyal to him and continuously trying to impress him, protect him. They must understand him much more than I do. It's strange though, when he comes to me in the night, his eyes glisten as if they were damp with unshed tears. He talks in his sleep, incoherent mutterings, but it's always something about loneliness . . ._

After an extended period of time, Deré eventually found the way back to her room. She was exhausted both physically and mentally. Sitting beside the window, she leaned her back against the wall and shut her eyes. Quietly, listening. _Such a beautiful day today, with clouds of snowy white resting on a sheet of light blue sky._ In the background, she could hear the constant humming of the fortress' engine, deep and soft beneath her feet. As well, there was the occasional singing of birds atop the Vione. _There must be a family of birds up on the roof. A mother and a father, and many, many brothers and sisters. It would be nice to visit them someday, before the children leave and fly off to find homes of their own._ She paused her daydreaming as light footsteps approached her room.

Deré rose and moved towards the door as it slid open. Before her stood a tall, slender girl with silvery-grey hair and a face distinctively similar to that of Dilandau-sama. Except, she had large blue eyes instead of his blood-red ones. But what intrigued her was the girl's attire; she was wearing black armor with a tint of red, the exact opposite of her master. _Who is this girl?_

With a happy smile, the nameless girl invited herself in and hopped onto the bed. Casual and energetic, she asked, "Deré right? You made Dilly-chan really worried." She laughed and pulled her feet onto the bed, sitting cross-legged, "He thought you had escaped and sent me to investigate."

The girl was bouncing cheerfully up and down, leaving Deré speechless. And not only did she call her master _Dilly-chan,_ but she was also _bouncing_ on the bed! _This is the first cheerful person I've met since Eden! _And Dilandau-sama had thought she escaped! Why would she do such a thing? But anyway, _Dilly-chan!_ Deré opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

Suddenly, the girl stopped bouncing, her face serious, "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, are you a mute? He forgot to mention that. I was waiting for you to ask me my name, but oh well, I'll just pretend you did! It's Celena!"

With that, Celena smiled some more and nodded her head. "I'm so happy! There hasn't been anyone to play with since, since . . ." she thought a moment, "since FOREVER!" Deré laughed and it felt wonderful. She hadn't laughed for days. _She's so cheerful and carefree, so unlike him, unlike all of them. There is such a big contrast that I can't begin to explain it. This girl, she is so sweet and wonderful, she makes me want to laugh and dance and sing! Oh, how long since I've last sung!_ But her thoughts were interrupted as the door slid open once more.

Dilandau did not look joyful at all. "CELENA! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! I TOLD YOU TO GO CHECK UP! THAT DOESN'T IMPLY FUCKING AROUND! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO REPORT TO ME SUBSEQUENT TO INVESTIGATING!"

He glared daggers at her and turned to Deré, "AND YOU! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU! I NEVER GAVE PERMISSION FOR YOU TO LEAVE YOUR ROOM!" Deré felt like crying. She had never been accused in such a way before, much less by him who had always been gentle with her.

Unconsciously, she looked to Celena for support. "But Dilly-chan," Celena said in a whiny voice, "I found her and she was ok and I wanted to talk to her because I never get to talk to anyone and she looked really nice and I wanted to play with her cause I never get to play with anyone cause I'm always alone on the Vione with only Folken to talk to and you know he doesn't say a lot and I talked to Deré but I didn't know that she was a mute and . . ." Celena was bouncing up and down on the bed as she spoke her endless sentence.

"ENOUGH! I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR LAME EXCUSES!" Dilandau breathed deeply as if he were trying to be patient with a child, "I just wanted you to realize that, when I give you an order, you are to follow it. And when you have disobeyed me, DO NOT TALK BACK OR I WILL SLAP YOU! AND DON'T CALL ME THAT SILLY NAME! YOU ARE TO ADDRESS ME AS LORD DILANDAU OR DILANDAU-SAMA, _sigh_ is that understood?" Celena dropped her head and stared at the floor, "Yes Dilly . . . I mean Dilandau-sama!"

Growling, he turned to leave but stopped as he remembered the reason he had been looking for Deré, "You are only permitted to leave your room with an escort. I don't want you wandering around the Vione in case of an attack. And the reason I have been searching for you is to inform you that there will be a feast tonight. You are to be prompt and ready by 7:30 sharp." Then, without another word, he turned and left.

"Yes Dilandau-sama." Deré mumbled quietly to herself. Celena hopped over to Deré and giggled, "So you _can_ talk! This is great! It's obviously more fun playing with someone who can talk back, oh, and we're going to have SO much fun before the feast because we can play dress-up! I'm sure you don't have any dresses to wear, am I right? And I have a lot so we can pick out a nice and pretty dress for you. General Adelphis is going to be here too you know, and he likes it when we look pretty, oh, and so does Dilly-chan." Then, Celena grabbed Deré's hand and they were off.

_How can she change her mood so fast as if nothing had happened! Dilandau-sama had just screamed at us and a second later she's completely alright and playful again. She even continued to call him Dilly-chan!_ Deré giggled inwardly at the thought of that silly name and the way he had reacted to it. She could never call her master something such as that. _But Celena really is a bit strange. She seems so childish, as if she never had the chance to grow up. Maybe they're related, Dilandau-sama and Celena. Yes, that must be it. That must be why he tried to be patient with her. Dress-up?_ Deré grinned at the thought of one of her favorite childhood games_. I haven't played dress-up for a very long time. Did I ever play dress-up? Yes I did, with someone, someone very dear to me. Who was it? I cannot remember. _

She had just finished taking a shower and was drying her hair. The dinner gown laid before her brought a wry smile to her lips. It was made of black satin with a v-shaped, frilly neck-line that showed more than the comfortable amount of cleavage. The length was long and fitted, leaving little to the imagination and trailing behind her a pool of frills and lace. She hadn't wanted to wear something so . . . dark and exotic but Celena has insisted. In fact, all of Celena's dresses were either highly seductive and black or extremely cute and light blue. She had explained that it was because Dilandau-sama liked women dressed in black. But Celena herself, loved light blue. _"It's so pretty, like the color of my eyes, I think they match, don't you? And it's like the sky on a sunny day when the sky is very blue, it's like this she pointed at her dress, and I love sunny days cause that's when I'm the happiest, but I think you should wear a black one because you're probably going to be sitting beside Dilly-chan so it would be better if you matched."_

Celena had said that whole sentence without taking a single breath inbetween. She could talk endlessly. As the two had become better acquainted with one another, Celena had asked if it was okay for them to become _best friends._ It made Deré feel so warm and welcomed. The girl had been shy about it, questioning in a subtle voice with a hint of worry, while her eyes looked away. But of course, Deré had answered yes. She would love to be this girl's best friend! After all, she, herself had never had a best friend either. Then, a kind of connection had developed between the two and with celena looking very pleased, they continued their game of dress-up.

O4o86

Last revised: 02/23/05


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

It was already 7:45 and still an escort had not arrived. She paced around in circles as she thought about Dilandau-sama becoming upset with her again. Last time was not fun. _Should I go find him? No, that is definitely not a good idea because I'll just get lost and cause more trouble. But why isn't anyone here? Is there a problem? What if it's an emergency! What if the Vione is being attacked like Dilandau-sama said it might! What if he was hurt! Oh! What if something happened to him? _Deré took a deep breath, calming herself. _I must stop this useless worrying. 'What if's', be gone!_ But it did little to relieve her as she grew increasingly anxious with each passing second. She couldn't help but wonder what was causing the delay. Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, Deré slid the door open. And surprisingly, a familiar figure was standing before her, staring right at her.

"Lord Folken! I, I was just . . ." Deré stammered, incoherent from shock. _Why is he here? Is he escorting me? He's not coming in, what should I do? I must look like an idiot . . . _"Deré, why are you still in your room? I believe that everyone is already at the feast."

As always, Folken spoke with no expression or change of tone. He looked at her blankly, showing no emotion. As the awkward moment came to pass, footsteps could be heard running down the hall towards them. It was Celena, wearing the light blue dress that she had picked out with Deré and a pair of shinny, white laced boots.

Celena bowed, "Lord Folken, I'm really sorry, Dilly-chan told me to bring Deré but I went to my room to get my necklace and then I forgot and then I remembered but I was already really late and . . ."

Folken murmured and Celena stopped talking, giving Deré an apologetic look. But Deré only smiled, reassuring her friend that it was alright and that she didn't mind.

"We shall go now; I will escort the both of you. And remember not to call Dilandau by that nickname of yours in front of the generals."

Then, they followed Folken to the feasting room.

As they entered the enormous space, Deré opened her eyes wide, amazed by its magnificence. In the middle of the high ceiling was a massive chandelier suspended by a distinct, center rope. The rope was very thick, braided with strands of silver straw encircled with golden ribbons. The chandelier itself held more than a hundred white candles, burning with dancing flames. Thousands of tiny diamond droplets dangled from the gleaming gold structure, completing it as the centerpiece of the room, giving it a modified brilliance. The walls were clad in a cream-colored white, engraved with delicate golden flowers and miniature swords, adding a sparkling touch to the whole design. And the floor! It was made of glass!

The floor was a complete, mirror of glass. There were no cracks or lines anywhere to show where fragmented pieces may have joined. She felt weightless, like a bird standing on still water. In the middle of the room was a long table clothed in crimson, surrounded by identical golden chairs with matching cushions. Taking her place beside her master, she allowed herself a moment to absorb everything, drinking in all the delicious scents of food and wine. Just the utensils themselves thoroughly captured her gaze: elegant golden forks, knives, and spoons were laid out perfectly beside a round golden plate. And the food! It was wonderful! There was even more here than at Dilandau-sama's mansion. She was so happy to be a part of this joyous event that for a moment she had remembered something, something from her past. _A gentle hand upon my shoulder, "Deré, sweetie, it's alright. He'll come home for you . . ."_ And that was all that she could remember. _Who was that? Her voice so familiar. Someone I know very well. And who was he? I cannot remember . . ._

At either end of the long table was Dilandau-sama and Lord Folken. Across from her were the Generals and their ladies according to rank. To her right was Celena and following were the Dragonslayers. There was a cheerful atmosphere as the drinking and feasting began.

"TO CELEBRATE THE RECTITUDE OF WAR!" The generals raised their glass and cheered. However, amidst the excitement, she became lost; separated from the rest of them. She realized that she did not belong. As much as she wanted to understand them, it was very hard, especially when she didn't support war.

Deré took a peek at Celena who was already seriously drunk. With rosy cheeks and unfocused eyes, she played with the sleeves of her gown and smiled at General Adelphis. Deré had an uneasy feeling with the way he was looking at Celena. "Well, Miss Celena, you are again, more beautiful than the last time we met. You know, I have not forgotten the pleasant moment we shared."

He winked and motioned for her to go over to him. However, Celena only laughed, "General Adelphis, if I remember correctly, you were quite the character that day. However, as much fun as I had that time, I will not be entertaining anyone today."

She took another sip of wine and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Humph, silly girl you are." The General gave an unhappy grunt and instead, directed his gaze to Deré, "I see, and you must be "Lady" Deré, Dilandau's newest possession." She flinched at his sarcastic tone, "You're a lucky one. I hear you've managed to stay alive much longer than the others."

"What do you mean, sir?" The statement processed slowly through her mind. By now, she was used to being referred to as a possession, even though she could never accept it. But what does he mean by _stay alive? _Where there others before her? How many women had Dilandau kept? If General Adelphis understood this, how could he say that she was lucky? How can someone with no freedom, essentially living in solitude and used whenever pleased be considered lucky! And does this mean that Dilandau-sama will tire of her and in due time put her to death? Deré shivered at the thought.

"My dear, you pretend as if you do not know. Has Celena not told you, she's met many of them. Your _Dilandau-sama_ here is quite famous for his wins of war and of course, his handling of women."

General Adelphis glanced at Dilandau to see his reaction, but received none so he continued, "Before anything happens to you and that pretty face of yours, perhaps you should consider joining me. I am certain you will find much satisfaction."

Deré couldn't believe what she was hearing, this man had just told her that eventually she will be murdered by her master and now he was asking her to go with him! And Dilandau-sama is sitting right next to him!_ Is he not worried that Dilandau-sama might overhear!_ Deré took a quick look at her master who was busy flirting with some ladies; he hadn't heard a thing. She wanted to hold onto Celena for moral support but Celena was no longer in her seat. In fact, the girl had gone all the way to the other end of the table near Folken was and was sitting in the lap of some General with long, wavy hair. This party was really getting out of hand. The slayers were throwing food at one another and there were spilled drinks all over the place and everywhere was a mess. The situation made her nervous; Deré began to grip the hem of her dress, kneading it back and forth. She tried not to look at General Adelphis, whose eyes were intently locked onto hers.

She was even more agitated when he rose from his seat and moved towards her. She wanted to run away, but couldn't at a time like this. Catching Dilandau-sama's attention was her only hope. Perhaps he could save her from this terrible man, but he was entirely subjugated to whatever he was doing. The General neared her and he sat himself down in Celena's seat. He examined her from head to toe, his stare scrutinizing, undressing her with his eyes. Feeling exceedingly panicked, Deré raised a hand to her chest, "General Adelphis, please . . ."

"There is nothing to worry about my dear," He leaned in closer.

"My guests!" announced Dilandau, standing up, "I shall be retiring to my room. Continue on without me, we shall meet again on the battlefield. Deré, let us leave."

Dilandau eyed her curiously and for a moment she thought she saw him stiffen, but it may have only been her imagination. She let out a breath of relief that she did not know she was holding and replied, "Yes, Dilandau-sama."

Then, rising to her feet and not daring to look back at General Adelphis, she hurried off with her master.

Deré watched her master while following him down the dark hallway. _Did he know? Had he noticed? Is that why he decided to leave? Could it be . . ._ He doesn't look drunk at all. In fact, he seemed _angry? Annoyed?_ She followed him soundlessly. But instead of heading for her room, he turned a corner and Deré found herself in an unfamiliar corridor. Engulfed in shadow from dim lights, it felt as if she should fear falling into the darkness of the wall. But all she felt was a tingle of excitement. Where was he taking her? She wanted to ask him, but he stopped in front of a door with a ruby cross, "Wait here."

The cross was very small, positioned on the right side of the iron door. She touched it hesitantly, almost afraid of making contact. Without warning, the door slid open and she quickly withdrew her hand as her master reappeared. Getting only a glimpse of the room's interior, she spotted nothing but the corner of a bed and an immense black chest beside it. The palpable darkness of the room emitted a dreary and lonely feeling, but most of all, it held his scent; strong and powerful. It was not really a smell, but a superior air or aura that hung in the atmosphere as if daring her to enter. _Was this his room? Why is it so far away from everyone else? Doesn't he feel secluded? _It was so far away from the other dormitories! Celena had shown her the dragonslayers' quarters and also Folken's library but she hadn't even mentioned Dilandau-sama. _Is there something particular about this place? _She saw that he was holding a glass, a bottle of wine, and another bottle of something. He locked the door silently and they left the lonely room behind.

It was unquestionably past midnight, probably three or four in the morning. Deré could hardly keep her eyes open. Her eye-lids felt so heavy and opening and closing them weren't helping anymore. For the last few hours, Dilandau-sama had been lying on her bed drinking. She saw him mix the wine and the substance in the other bottle together in his glass, producing a reddish-purple mixture. He looked confused and frustrated. Just half an hour ago, he had knocked over her lamp and it now lay in pieces; broken on the floor. _What is wrong with him! Why is he doing this? What is he thinking . . . why doesn't he tell me? I don't understand but God, I'm so tired!_ She was just about to loose consciousness and drift into a deep slumber when Dilandau grabbed her wrist. And after that, it was all a bad dream.

He slammed her against the wall as if possessed by some demon. _Why is he being so harsh? U_ndressing her like a mad-man, he clawed at the black dress, tearing it and ripping it down the side. There was pain, except it was different than the other times—it was intense pain. She needed to hold onto something, anything. Scraping her nails on the hard floor was not enough so she reached for him, running her finger through his hair, digging her nails into his scalp. I_t really hurts, and it's funny because it hurts even more inside._ She could feel bruises forming where his fingers gripped her flesh. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes but she willed them to stop. It wasn't the physical pain or the shock. It was deeper than that. Her head and back hurt like hell. Everything was swimming around and around, colors and shapes blurred together. Never had it been this bad.

"Dilanda-sama . . ." she tried to tell him to stop, but it was too hard to breathe, to talk. Soon, the only sounds she heard were the pounding of her body against the wall, his crazed panting, and her sharp gasps. She had given up struggling long ago and only prayed that it would end soon. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he wore himself out and they both collapsed.

She felt numb. Broken. Pitiful. That was what she was. How can a person treated in such a way not have the guts to do anything about it? She had even tried to accept him, _why? Why be stupid Deré? It's not like he would ever love you! Did you hope that? Is that why you wanted to help him? You are a fool . . . _

_But I don't love him! Don't think that! How can I love him? Is it possible to love a person who considers you his possession and uses you like one? _But at that moment, she felt him bring her close, and hold her. He had carried her onto the bed and wrapped an arm around her waist as he always did, after . . . When he spoke, it surprised her because never had he spoken to her in bed before.

"Did he touch you?" It was such a simple question, but why did it mean so much more? These four words had proven that he did, indeed, know what was going on between her and General Adelphis. _Why then, had he not intervened?_ Well, technically he did; he brought her here.

"No." Her answer was just as simple. He seemed to relax a little but again, she could not tell if it were because of the statement or just a coincidence.

"That old fool, too bold for his own good. The next time we meet will be his last."

This lead her to remember something that she had been wondering about, "Dilandau-sama . . . are you going to kill me?"

Daring; perhaps the most daring she will ever be with him. It was a question that, if she were anywhere near her normal state of mind, would never have allowed to escaped from her lips. But she was not in her normal state of mind and the question had been asked, so there was nothing more to do except wait for a reply.

He was silent for a very long time. Then, quietly, he answered, "Why do you ask me this? I cannot answer a question like that . . . But, I want . . . to keep you."

After that, he withdrew his arm from around her waist and although he was still close, she sensed that he had shifted away. She wanted to reach out, to _touch him? Hold him? _A gentle, light touch, just to show that she was thankful, except, she could not, because there is a balance, a delicate balance between master and servant that she could not bring herself to tip. The damage would be unrepairable.

It was early morning and the sun's rays tickled her skin. Slowly, Deré opened an eye; _it's too early to get up, so tired._ Suddenly, she was wide awake as she realized who was beside her, it was Dilandau-sama, _why is he still here? He always leaves by morning._

Then, everything came back, everything that had happened the previous night; Deré ached all over. It was as if the pain suddenly remembered that it was supposed to cause pain. Her arms were sore and she felt dizzy. Watching him, Deré thought about their first night in his mansion. She thought about the mirror and the image that seemed so familiar. _He must be really tired, he never sleeps in_; it's unbelievable that a person could look completely different in his sleep and in reality.

The boy next to her, with silver hair and pale skin, looked so kind, so caring. Like one of those people who rescue you when you're in distress; a prince. _A prince on a white horse, off to rescue his maiden._ She imagined that when he smiled, it was a sincere smile, one of devotion and love. _The prince would always care for his maiden and protect her eternally from all the evils of the world._ Oddly enough, in this state, he reminded her of Celena. _The same hair, height and form, and both of them have very long eye-lashes. In his sleep, he looked like her twin._

In a way, Celena seems to be Dilandau-sama's other half, as if they were separated somehow. If the prince were to turn into a princess, there would be Celena, ever joyful, ever happy. He rules by force, violence, and through fear; whereas she was filled to the brim with joy and laughter. There was a significant contrast.

Gazing at him in a mesmerized fashion, she felt like touching him. There was an urge to explore her boundaries, her limits. _When had I become like this? Why am I being so bold? Why am I unafraid?_ She reached out her fingers and gently grazed his cheek. No reaction? _Relief_ . . . Moving a little closer, she stroked the side of his face, then little by little, trailed her hand along his neck, and finally, down to his chest. She felt him breathing evenly, in and out. Then slowly, almost reluctantly, as if cherishing this single moment she withdrew her hand and shut her eyes once more. The next time she opens them, he would be gone.

"Come Deré! Say goodbye to me in the hanger, cause you never know, I might die in battle and never return!" Celena laughing at her own joke, dragging Deré out of her room.

"Don't say that Celena! Of course you're going to come back! Dilandau-sama is strong, and I know you will win!" This was the first time Dilandau-sama would be leaving her side since he became a part of her life. She was _worried? Yes, she was worried, what if he didn't return? What would become of her? _

They stopped at the edge of the second floor, looking down at the guymelefs in the hanger below. There was a red one, and a black one, and many blue ones. Automatically, she scanned the area for a certain someone dressed in red amour, he was yelling at one of the slayers. _Please come back safely_, she silently prayed. Then, she gave Celena a warm hug. The girl tensed for a moment, and relaxed, "Don't worry Deré, I was just joking, we're the best soldiers of all Zaibach! And we do this all the time, there's really nothing to worry about, honest!" _I know . . . but still, with all of you gone, I'll be alone . . ._

O4o86

Last revised: 02/23/05


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

_I wonder how everyone is. God, please keep them safe and well. It's only been ten hours since they've left and I feel lonely already. There's no one to talk to since Celena's gone and Dilandau-sama won't be visiting me tonight . . . (You mean you want him to?) . . . No! Of course not! It's just something that I've gotten used to, and so it's a part of a routine that I'm going to miss. No, not miss, pause on. Yes. _

She thought about Dilandau inside his red Oreides, slaughtering the innocent, burning cities to the ground. It troubled her, the way he thinks; his mind, so puzzling. In a way, he has the mind of a child that can only look from one perspective and can only focus and expand from a limited amount of feelings, that being hate, anger, and a passion for destruction. It was as if some parts of his mind were _unexplored? Asleep?_ She could not find the word for it. Perhaps it is dormant, the love, hope, and happiness, perhaps it rests latent somewhere deep inside in untouched crevasses and folds. Perhaps he was waiting for someone to free him . . .

Deré was so bored, and since there was no one around to escort her, she decided that it would be alright to take a little walk. Possibly venture to some unknown parts of the Vione. She started by heading towards Folken's library as it had fascinated her the last time she saw it.

There were shelves full of books all along the walls, most of them old and dusty. It looked like a library from somewhere in her memory although she could not remember where. The room was rather dark, painted a blackish-blue color and lit only by a few candles flickering on the walls. It was peaceful and quiet with a calm and collected feeling. In the centre of the room was a large, round table laden with maps, various compasses, and many small figures that represented certain things or persons. A single oil-lamp stood by itself, emitting a significant radius of light. It urged one to sit down and think, or read a book; about life, about the world, just to discover oneself and his or her feelings. It was the home of a great mind.

As Deré entered this private area, she caught sight of a book on the shelf. It was titled, _Journal, The Sorcerers of Zaibach_. She carefully removed the book from the shelf and headed to a nearby window seat. Comfortably settled, Deré flipped through the pages. She stopped when she came to a series of drawings; atrocious, grotesque, and shocking. There were pictures of children, distorted and mutilated, some twisted beyond description. There were also adults, men and women, and animals. Some were not even human, they were creatures of legend—mermaids? Draconians, the winged people. She did not even know that they had existed. But these pictures and sketches were too real to be only imagined.

Deré shut the book silently, placing a hand to her cheek. She took a deep breath, rubbed her arms and leaned backwards a bit. Still feeling disturbed and uncomfortable, she decided to stand up and walk around, only to see Folken standing in the doorway, "I see you have found my book."

There was a hint of sadness, or was it regret, in his voice. She stared at him as hundreds of questions emerged. _What is this book? Are the pictures real? Is it true and did you write it? Were you a part of it? How could you do this?_ However, all she said was, "Lord Folken, this . . . you . . . Dilandau-sama."

Why had she said that? _Was there a connection, between Dilandau-sama— this— and him? And Celena?_ She prayed that there wasn't, even though it would explain many things. But she couldn't think of her master or Celena in that situation or state of mind; it would be too unbearable. There must have been so much pain, screaming, suffering, and blood. It was a form of physical and mental torture.

Folken, his cape trailing on the thick carpet, moved silently as he made his way to the round table. Without a word or gesture, he asked for her to join him. She came, slowly and cautiously, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "The only reason that that book was allowed to be published was because it revealed Zaibach's greatness and its superiority of technologies. It was meant to be a book of criticism of the ways of the sorcerers and the belief in the alternation of fate. It was a cruel and sinful practice. But I was a sorcerer once and took part in it."

He gave a sigh and paced towards the window. The moon shone brightly, making it seem as if they were seeing through a blue lens. The night was still young, the sun having set no less than half an hour ago. There were no stars yet, only faint traces of grey clouds. He took a deep breath and continued, "There were times that I wanted to die, to end it all, times where I couldn't take it anymore; the pain, the suffering, and the screams. They have been imprinted in my memory like a tape rewinding and playing itself over and over again; screams in my head that never fade or disappear.

"Yes, Dilandau was a part of it; he was a victim, a victim of fate. Many experiments were performed on him; he is considered a great achievement, and also a great failure. Some believe that it is essential to create or modify emotionless humans to serve in war. Others believe that it is better to have whole beings, they thought that Dilandau was incomplete. In this sense, he was labeled a failure. His feelings towards war, power, hate, and violence were too strong. They did not want individuals who possessed such aggressive emotions. It would harm the empire.

However, because of the importance for him to feel needed and his insuppressible pride, he remained loyal to Zaibach and to Emperor Dornkirk. He always did his best in war, because he wanted to be the best, to surpass all others; his pride would not allow him to lose. He earned his own title as General of the Dragonslayers and he proved his skill as a warrior. His name as one of the most famous warlords of Zaibach is true and worthy. But there are many that are against him, he is despised and detested by many in Zaibach. Often by those who believe that he is too young to hold such high status, and those who are jealous of his power."

Deré listened in silence; she did not know what to say. She had to admit that she already guessed a lot of this, but it had been unclear; it was all jumbled pieces of a puzzle that she hadn't come to put together yet. But never would she have guessed that Dilandau-sama was not a real person. There were even more questions than before racing through her mind. For example, Celena, and how she ties in with it all.

"And then there is Celena. If you haven't already noticed, I would like to point out that she is the exact opposite of Dilandau. The reason behind this is, they are one person."

She was in total shock; taken by surprise. Of course she had noticed that there was a connection between the two, and yes, she had assumed that there was a relationship, but _one person? How can that be?_

"You see them as two, but they are one. Dilandau is Celena, he emerged from her. When she was a child of seven, Celena was kidnapped from her parent's estate in Austuria. It was very common at the time for Zaibach to experiment on children, as they are easy to take care of and to manipulate. They did things to her, similar to the drawing from my book. It was called 'Fate Alteration', something that Emperor Dornkirk believed would strengthen Zaibach and give it absolute power.

"As time went on, the little girl Celena changed into Dilandau. There is a reason why Dilandau is the way he is; his love of fire and destruction, his glee in seeing others suffer and die. Celena didn't have any of this, never engaged in anything like it. She didn't even come close to exploring those parts of the human mind that is part of human nature. When the alteration proceeded, that side of her surfaced at full blast, completely wiping everything that existed before; compressing those emotions into tiny fractions that would never had a chance to develop again. The boy that was born became known as Dilandau Albatou."

Folken looked at the girl, she seemed dazed, struck by too much at one time, as if she were floating through a sea of bad dreams. Perhaps he should stop here. There is more to tell her, but maybe it is not the right time. This girl, Deré, Folken believed that she was the hope, the light, she would be the one.

She was running, searching for him . . . Dilandau-sama. She heard him scream, a painful, piercing scream. It echoed throughout the halls of the dark building. She heard the hustling of footsteps behind her slowly catching up. She needed to find him, save him, protect him. _I'm coming Dilandau-sama . . . _She ran, as fast as her legs would allow, towards the screams, the cries. It made her heart ache, so painful, as if it would explode, as if she were feeling his pain. Finally, a door; she pushed it open and franticly rushed in, "DILANDAU-SAMA!" There were tears in her eyes as she beheld the sight before her.

He was confined on a table, needles and tape covering his body. Blood was trickling from various wounds; sweat plastered his hair to his face. It was a terrifying sight. He was mentally unstable; his eyes, dilated, wide red pools staring at nothing. He thrashed wildly against his bonds, his wrists raw from the heavy metal chains. She held her hands to her mouth to stop from puking. Her body wouldn't move even though her mind was crying to go rescue him. She stood there, just stood there, unable to direct her eyes away. No one seemed to notice the girl by the door, as they were busy worrying about the boy on the table. Then the pursuers came and she felt someone grab her. It was Folken, he used his metal hand to cover her eyes and she felt the cool steal against her eyelids, and at that moment, Deré awoke.

_It was a dream, only a dream. Dilandau-sama. Is that what had happened to you?_ She was breathed heavily, feeling cold sweat on her back; the images had chilled her to the bone. There was a great sorrow, a sadness, not pity, a deep agonizing sadness felt for him. To have been treated in such a way, to have suffered through so much and at such a young age, in such a way, such a horrible way, not wonder he is the way he is! Who can blame him! Celena too! In reality, they were just as much the same as they were different; they both hid under a mask to escape from those times, those memories. No wonder they love war, to kill, in a twisted way must give them a sense of liberty; to become lost in the present than to be locked in the past.

She thought about Folken. When she had seen him in the door she had been surprised, thinking that she had been alone on the Vione. She remembered perfectly the look he had on his face. It was a kind of realization, funny, at first she had expected him to be angry or disappointed in her for intruding in his private study. However, she later came to understand that he had known she would come. The belief of 'Fate Alteration', _what was it like doing those things, had he enjoyed it at a certain time?_ There was regret, she knew, and overwhelming guilt. Perhaps that is why he is so emotionless, so gloomy and so depressed, but carefully concealing it. Poor Lord Folken.

He had wanted to tell her everything, even though he had offered to stop and give her time to digest what he had said thus far; except, it was she, who had requested him to continue. She remembered how his hand had trembled at times and how he had to pause at times, especially during the part of Celena's rebirth.

Deré still didn't understand how it had been done. But all she knew was that he had found a way to separate them, Dilandau-sama and the overpowering mind of Celena. She had awoken, minuscule at first, just a presence in the back of his mind. But she had grown, developed and gained strength. She became so powerful that a transformation had become possible. It was then that Lord Folken decided he must separate the two, or face the consequence of loosing both of them. Deré didn't understand all the details and procedures of the separation, but she knew that they had almost died. It was a tough challenge, even for someone as experienced as Folken. Deré turned and shifted in her bed, unable to regain sleep.

_Have I said too much? Was it the right time? I must clear my mind, erase the images that have resurfaced to haunt me. Banish them, for now at least, because they can never completely vanish; they have become a part of me as I am a part of myself. Those victims, those tormented individuals, I am truly sorry. I do not ask for forgiveness, because it is unforgivable; I am unworthy. My sins are boundless. There is too deep a mark, an ugly scar that cannot heal. I have dedicated my life to protecting them and looking after them; Dilandau and Celena. Pray that I may live the rest of my life to repent for my sins. And still, that is not enough. It can never be enough. _

_How many more days until their return?_ She missed them, especially Celena, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, she missed him too; her master. She missed the way he made her feel special sometimes, how he warmed a part of her that no one else had access to. He has become special to her, someone that she cared for, not loved, cared for . . . _But it's all too familiar, the feeling, and the waiting. When was it? A few years ago? _

She remembered someone, who had said goodbye, someone very dear to her. Very important, who held a special place inside her heart. _Who was it? _A fuzzy image appeared in her head. It was a man, a young man, with parted blond hair and violet eyes. That was all, all that could be distinguished. The rest of him remained a blur, an indecipherable blur of a young man who had said, _"I'll see you soon! Just a few days, maybe a little more . . ."_

How long had it been? How long had she waited? _Who was he!_ Frustrated, Deré gave up trying to remember. It only hurt her head and made her angry.

It had been four days now since they had left for battle. She visited Folken often, chatting with him, or just reading in the window seat. It was a nice place for her to relax, and she felt better being with Folken than alone. He had taught her things, things about Zaibach and the ways of war. He had shown her maps of different lands and told her stories of great battles won and lost. Also, sometimes but rarely, he let slip little tidbits about himself, his past life, his childhood, his happy memories.

She learned that he likes to drink tea instead of coffee, he likes blossoms, and he had a younger brother whom he loved dearly and shared many happy memories with. It was nice, even though he did and said things, as always, hiding his emotions perfectly. She began to understand him, to read him from his words, according to his choice of words. She could tell, if only a little, how he was feeling. She hoped that this would be the beginnings of a strong friendship; she really admired and respected Folken. In a way, he was like an older brother.

O4o86


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

_The setting sun is so beautiful._ It relaxed her, calmed her. The shower of golden rays against her skin felt so warm and soothing. It purified her, healed her, reminding her of a fairy tale where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after, riding off into the sunset. She smiled a delightful smile, feeling like a child again, sitting in the courtyard waiting for her mother to prepare dinner. So lovely, so lovely is today; white fluffs against a pink background. Then, suddenly in the sky was a glisten of red; a sparkle. Squinting her eyes, she looked again at the red sparkle that was getting distinctively larger, followed by a black one and many blue ones. When she was certain it was them, her master, Celena, and the dragonslayers, Deré hurried off excitedly to tell Folken the good news.

But of course, Folken had already known. She realized that they must have communicators or something, _how silly of her! _Nevertheless, he walked with her towards the hanger. She felt her heart flutter; she hadn't seen him for a week. How is he? Had he missed her? _Missed me!_ No, why was she thinking like this, why should he think of her! She was just a servant to him, he could care less, he probably never thought of her anyway. She shook these thoughts from her mind and thought about Celena.

How she missed the girl. Celena was the one who brought sunshine into life, the one who brightened it with laughter and fun; she was the rose-blossom amidst the field of hyacinth. Everyday, Celena would bring her breakfast and they would chat together about life and things they both enjoyed doing; things you share with a friend. Also, Celena had given her a lot of insight about Dilandau-sama. He happened to be one of her favorite topics, whether it be his habits or his personality. It was nice having a friend like that; it had been so long since she had someone close to talk to.

As they neared the stairway to the first floor, thunderous landings jolted the Vione. Upon arrival, she searched the area for him, and there he was, standing next to Celena at the head of two perfectly straight lines formed by the dragonslayers. His face looked cheerful and happy and he was grinning; however, it also seemed very tired, and there was something else, something subtle and dark that almost went unnoticed. She wanted to embrace him, Celena, all of them, glad that they had returned safely, and to show how much she had missed them; except, it didn't seem right.

A high pitched squeal interrupted her thoughts, "DERÉ! I missed u so much! You now what, we totally ambushed them! It was so funny! Cause they weren't prepared and we snuck up on them, oh! You should have seen the commander's face! I swear he was so scared he was going to pee his pants! And there was this one guy, after his head fell off, his eyes were still blinking! It was so weird! And there was this other guy, he was going to get Dilly-chan but I saved him even though he won't admit it and then there was this other guy . . ." Celena clung onto Deré, giving her a welcoming hug, while talking non-stop as she told excitedly of the battle.

Her once shiny black amour was covered in a thick layer of dried blood, and there was a nasty bruise on her forehead; but she didn't seem to mind or care. Deré gently touched the wound and the girl winced at the pain. "Celena, stop a minute, you have to treat this or it'll get infected." Taking the girl's hand, Deré lead her away to the medical wing, she glanced back at her master; he was reporting to Lord Folken and hadn't taken any notice of her.

She was waiting for him. He was late; he always came a little after mid-night. She remembered the last night they had spent together, when they had talked together, it was when he had said that he wanted to keep her. _To keep me_. It had been hesitant, and unsure, but she believed that he had meant it. In a way, it gave her a safe feeling. Ironically, she always felt safe with him, never having been afraid of him before.

Ever since the first day, she had never been afraid; maybe of her surroundings, of what he did to others, but never afraid of him. Perhaps it was because he treated her differently; he made her feel helpless, yes, but also showed her moments of his weak side. It was another him that many did not know of, and would never have guessed existed. Even if they did, they wouldn't live to tell about it. It was his conscience, his humanity. She had begun to realize that he didn't enjoy killing as much as one would have thought. In fact, it could almost be said that he felt guilt? No, not guilt, but a drawn back sense of regret. The joy and evil fun of it had disappeared, leaving only the dread and emptiness.

It has become something that he did, that was him, how everyone knew him as; almost like a shell that he had to keep up and support. He had nightmares, horrid nightmares of the battlefield. In the night, she often felt him grip the sheets and bury his face in her chest. She stroked his hair sometimes, held him sometimes, cared for him, but never would they exchange words. Never would she break the moment; and as always, the next day would carry on as if nothing had ever happened, as if he had never been there. And they would again, play their respected role of the servant and master.

With these thoughts in her mind, Deré slowly sailed into a whirlpool of dreams. She dreamt of an angel, with blood covered wings. The feathers dripping with a thick red liquid; he was treading in a pool of crimson blood. Struggling, the angel tried to stay afloat, his arms flailing wildly as he labored to breathe. Then, with a final thrust, the angel leapt into the air, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if he had made it, as if he were free. But the wings, drenched in blood, were too heavy. Red splattered everywhere as he struggled to fly, to get away, but he was falling, falling back into the pool of red. The heaviness seized him, the weight, the burden too much, too unbearable. He fell, plummeting into the redness, and this time there was no more movement, no more panic or exertion. The surface was quiet, clam, undisturbed. There was no trace of the angel ever being there, except a single bloody feather, left buoyant.

She dreamed a series of red dreams, all similar, all leading to the same idea. _What is it? What are they trying to say, to tell me._ The moon shone in through the balcony casting a silvery glow. The night breeze blew gently and the air felt misty. In the night, the planet was different, like another world; like the other side of the mountain. The moonlight reminded her of a song, a sad song:

_Moonlight moonlight how bright you shine, come, come to me and ease my mind. Erase my memories and let me dream, let me forget the yells and screams. With you it's different, with you it's the same, you always sooth me but bring me back again. Moonlight moonlight you who see all, tell me, come tell me, when will I fall. And when I do, will it be heaven or hell? Tell me, come tell me, will there be angels at all?_

How curious, it seemed for Dilandau-sama, it worked the other way. It was backwards; only in the night and underneath the moon, did the truth surface. The hidden is revealed, and the gates are unlocked.

It had been three days now since his return and every night she had waited, but no one came. _Deserted_, she felt deserted, but then, did she even have a right to? There was an awkwardness thinking of him sleeping in a different room. She had gotten so used to his familiar figure next to hers, his arm around her waist; _lonely_, it felt lonely. It was different from when he had been away, because at that time she had known he wouldn't come, because he wasn't there. But now, she expected him, almost wanted him to be here. The thought scared her, _why is there this sense of need, wasn't it the other way around? Was he not the one who needed her?_ It was frustrating, figuring these feelings out.

Life had been so simple once, on the streets you never thought about anything but food and sleep. Maybe she should go to him, ask him, talk to him; maybe something was wrong. Even during the day, when they saw each other or walked by one another, he would take no notice of her. Before, there had always been a glance or gesture, but now, even when she was on the balcony of the second floor watching the dragonslayers practice their swords, he would not look at her. He would not glimpse up, their eyes would never meet.

_It hurt_; there was a feeling of hurt._ Why was he avoiding her? Does he not like her anymore, is there someone else? _The image of her Dilandau-sama with someone else made her feel _betrayed?_ Why was there a tightness in her heart, did she love him? _Do I love him?_ _Could I love him?_ When had this begun; when was it, that she saw him as more than just the master?

These ponderous questions kept her awake, it was only a few hours past midnight, perhaps he hadn't slept yet, perhaps she could still talk to him. Quietly, Deré got up and silently left her room. She faintly remembered the way to that dark, dreary hallway where his room had been; at least she assumed it was his room.

Tiptoeing, she headed in the direction of the familiar corridor. She paused as she neared the room. There was a sound, a crash, like a chair being turned over or a table being cracked. She listened again more closely; there definitely were some weird noises coming from his room.

Cautiously, she edged towards the door with the ruby cross. There was a slit, a crack where the door hadn't fully closed. She timidly peeked inside. He was on a rampage, throwing things, kicking things, it was terrifying. There was so much negative discharge around him that it was almost tangible. "Dilandau-sama," she whispered, what was happening, why was he being like this.

She wanted to run in and stop him, to calm him, and comfort him from whatever was torturing his mind, but she was too frightened. Then, something was thrown at the door and she gasped, making a sharp sound. Quickly, she put a hand to her mouth and listened. There was silence, absolute silence except for the low humming of the engine deep below. She knew what was coming, he had heard her, but maybe there was still time to run away.

All of a sudden, before she had a chance to blink, he was there, with his sword to her neck. But there was surprise written on his face when he realized who it was. Without removing the weapon, he asked in a deadly voice, "Why are you here?"

It was more of a threat than a question. There was a painless prick on her neck as she felt blood trail down slowly. His hand was shaking, causing the cold steel to dig into her flesh. Then, abruptly, he hurled the sword aside and seized her lips with his own. She could hardly breathe, it was so rough, his mouth was so hot and the contact so unexpected that she felt ready to faint.

Dizziness caused her to loose her balance and he caught her by the waist. It felt so right, his arm around her wait, as if it should always be there. She relaxed and shut her eyes, melting in the warmth of the kiss. Funny, she had missed his lips much more than she had expected. There was a lasting moment of collected calmness. Then, he drew himself away and backed up against the opposite wall, his breathing deep and labored.

He was clothed in black leather pants that hung a little below his waist, his upper body was bare. Her eyes searched through his flaming red ones, _what was he thinking, why is he so upset._ Unconsciously, she turned her gaze to his chest, he had such nicely defined muscles and his skin was so pale. She was so lost in her observation that when he spoke, his voice startled her, "What, are you trying to do to me? TELL ME! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

She didn't understand, what was he talking about, she hadn't done anything to him, how could she, they hardly talked! Keeping her eyes locked onto his, she remained silent, it was better not to say anything, for there was nothing worth saying right now to calm him. He grabbed her then, forcefully by the shoulders, "ANSWER ME!"

When she didn't reply, his voice trembled, "Answer me . . ." There was a wild confusion in his eyes, it looked chaotic; mad. He seemed to be search for something in her, demanding that she reveal it to him.

"I don't know what you're saying . . . I'm sorry!" She began to cry, frantic and not knowing what to say. A great feeling of distress surged through her, making her feel cornered and trapped. Thankfully, her muffled sobs caused his expression to soften and his grip lessened. He watched her for a long time before letting her go. Then, he retreated wordlessly into his room and locked the door.

There were no more sounds. The Vione was silent once more. She huddled there, outside his room, staring at the ruby cross on his door. The tears had stopped flowing and she remained still. Swaying ever so slightly, Deré hummed a light song, the one of the moon. She was at peace, calm and serene; a fragile doll playing music. She would sit there for a very long time, thinking about things, just things.

_Waking up again, every morning I wake up, and every night I go to sleep._ "Life is so interesting."

Her words dripped with sarcasm. The truth was, she was angry. It's been more than a week now, and her life was a boring routine. Even Celena's daily visits were becoming stale. She missed him. She hadn't realized that he played such a large role in her life. _Does he mean that much to me? Just thinking about him makes me angry. How can he just ignore me and pretend nothing's happened!_ She felt like jumping off the Vione. What was the purpose of her existence! There is no purpose; she existed solely for him.

She felt useless, how sad it was that her life held no meaning. "Deré, are you alright? You seem really sad lately, has Dilly-chan been mean to you? I'll talk to him, are you sad?"

Celena was such a great friend and she cared so much for her. They had just made cards together the other day; Celena had a talent for art, her card had been so pretty, decorated with silver glitter and black feathers. But even though Celena was a darling, a sweetie, the girl wouldn't understand. Deré wasn't just sad, not really, just annoyed, annoyed with everything and her life. She was tired of worrying about how everyone felt; the dragonslayers and why they hated her, the cook and whether he was lonely or not, but especially how he felt. Maybe she should go visit Lord Folken; she hadn't done that in a while. Lord Folken had seemed, distracted since Dilandau-sama's return.

"Lord Folken?" Deré knocked gently on the mahogany door of the library as she turned the golden handles. "Lord Folken, I'm letting myself in." He was reading at the round table. She barely missed his hand slipping something inside his cloak, it was something that glittered. "I see you are troubled."

Folken's monotonous voice sounded different today. It was a change and it gave her a sense of freshness. Deré smiled, "Only a lot. I feel so frustrated! So annoyed with everything! So argh!" She balled her fists and punched the table.

"Does this have anything to do with Dilandau?"

"No . . . I mean, yes, but it's not just that." She didn't want to reveal her feelings towards her master yet, especially when she wasn't certain.

"Maybe you need to leave the Vione for a while. No one can stay in this place for long." Folken's eyes seemed distant, as if he were in deep thought. Deré had never seen him like this before. He looked happy, but also worried at the same time. It was very hard to tell as his emotions were always held back and concealed.

"Lord Folken?"

"Yes? I will speak with Dilandau." Then he asked something unexpected, "Is it possible for a cursed statue to love?"

"Yes, as long as he finds his heart." She didn't know where that came from, but somehow, it just felt right to say it.

O4o86


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N: Some new stuff in this chap that wasn't in it before

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

Deré was excited, how long had it been since she had last set foot on land? Two to four months, maybe more. This morning Celena had rushed into her room with the good news. Dilandau-sama would be going to the nearby city of Gallardias, capital of Odean, for a few days and they were to accompany him.

_Gallardias__, why did that name sound so familiar? Gallardias . . ._ well, it wouldn't matter. She would be near him again, he might even talk to her; at least he would have to acknowledge her presence. _Dilandau-sama__, what is it that you want me to do? I don't understand . . . why can't you talk to me and just tell me. I only want to help you._ She let out a sigh and began to pack some clothing.

It was a large city with many busy streets. Dilandau-sama and Celena were wearing cloaks to conceal their armor. She felt giddy like a child going to the fair. There were so many colorful items on sale in every store: hats, parasols, candy, kites, and so much more! Deré couldn't keep her eyes off it all. But what drew her attention the most was, this place was so happy. There were no dark alleys or suspicious looking individuals, well, except for Celena and Dilandau-sama, but the point was, everywhere she looked, people seemed to be smiling and enjoying what they were doing. The baker looked jolly in his shop, and the tailor was humming while sewing, even the messenger boy was licking a lolly pop.

The scene was so perfect that it was frightening. Then, they walked by a beautiful water fountain in the centre of the city. It was made of swirling pink and white marble and there was an angel standing amidst the spray. Her hands where held together in front of her chest and she was smiling, a sweet and innocent smile. Suddenly, an image came to her mind:

_"Deré!__ Faster! You can't catch me!" The little boy with blond hair was calling back to the little girl. They were chasing each other around the water fountain, but without warning, the little girl misplaced her foot and fell into the water. _

_"ALEISTER!" she cried out to the blond little boy. He immediately turned to help her out of the water, she was soaked from head to toe, and there was still water flowing out of her clothes. The little boy began to laugh, and soon, the two children were rolling on the ground in uncontrollable laughter. _

_"Children!__ Your clothes are getting dirty! Get up this instant! And Deré sweetie, why are you wet!" A kind looking woman walked towards the children, she was holding two ice-cream cones, one in each hand . . . _

"Deré, Deré!"

"What is it Aunt Lydia?" Deré said with a dazed look.

She looked for Celena, the girl and Dilandau-sama were standing some distance away, motioning for her catch up, "What are you talking about? Hurry up, Dilly-chan's getting angry!"

_But what was that vision? Who was the little boy and the kind looking woman? Aleister, that name, so familiar, those voices, everything about that image. I know him, them, I know them, Aunt __Lydia_Suddenly, Deré raced off, she ran in the direction of the setting sun, autumn leaves crunching beneath her feet. She ran faster, she knew exactly where to go, there was a path, a gravel road up ahead. _Westwood Drive_, yes, it's getting closer.

Her limbs ached, but she didn't turn back; it was so close. Dilandau-sama and Celena were catching up; there was a house, a mansion. Deep blue paint, white balconies, ivy growing up the walls, it was, it was home. She walked, breathing hard, each step felt like a million years.

The window that Venice used to sneak out of, behind the shed where Aleister hid his telescope, and on the deck where she played teatime with Margaret; it was all coming back, all of it. Before she had a chance to open the latch, she felt Dilandau-sama grab her, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING! AND WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS!"

"It's my home! Dilandau-sama, I'm home! I've found it! After so long!" Tears began to pool in her sky blue orbs as more and more fond memories came flowing back.

She opened the large gate and walked in boldly. It felt so wonderful, to have found your family, to know you had a family. She couldn't help smiling; there were tears of joy, pure joy. The two cloaked figures walked silently by her side. Her hands shook as she reached for the silver doorbell.

The chimes rang throughout the house and a shadow came towards the door, "Who . . . ? Deré? Oh God, Oh Lord, Deré sweetie, it's you, it's really you!"

The woman was the same as in her vision, except she had aged over the years, there were lines on her forehead, around her eyes, and when she smiled, and her hair had also lost some of its younger brilliance.

"Aunt Lydia, I'm home . . ." The two embraced, a warm, loving hug that could only come from one's family. Aunt Lydia paid no heed that there were two dangerous looking, cloaked strangers by her door, instead, she welcomed them in with her niece.

"I'll go call Margaret and Aleister, he's come home, and they moved in after you went missing." The woman rushed off and Deré guided herself towards the living room. There were many pictures on the walls, mostly of herself, Venice, and Aunt Lydia; there were also some others of Margaret and Aleister. Aleister, he came back.

Then she remembered who she was with, "Dilandau-sama! Celena! I'm so sorry! I didn't know this was going to happen! I . . ."

"It's ok Deré, we understand, right Dilly-chan?" Celena gave a reassuring smile, and squeezed Deré's hand, but Dilandau only grunted. Then, he growled when a handsome young man by the name of Aleister gave Deré a kiss on the lips.

"I missed you so much! We believed the worst! Deré, I can't believe it's you, how I missed you."

_She was crying and she was running. I have to find him, my love, my one and only. First it was __Venice__, my dear older brother who died in the army, and now Aleister. No, I will not wait anymore, I will not sit here and wait for that damned letter like last time; I can't. I will search for him, find him, and we will return home together. You promised, you promised me to return, and where are you? Why are you not here, by my side, like you promised? _

_More than a year ago, I told you not to leave, to go. I said stay, stay with me, but you wouldn't listen, you said you had to follow your heart. It told you to take a chance, but what about my heart? My heart that beats for you. I cry, I cry during the day and during the night. And Margaret too, your older sister, even though she pretends to be ok, I know that she too, has tears. She comforts me, and tells me, again and again, that you will return. But have you? No you have not. You said one or two months, maybe half a year, but it's been more than a year! I am still alone and waiting. I cannot wait another day, I must take action, __Venice__ is gone, but I will not loose you too. My dear Aunt __Lydia__, my only relative, pray you not worry, please, watch your health and keep safe. I will return, someday, I will find him. _

I was only a little over 14 that raining day when I ran from home, from my Aunt Lydia and my best friend Margaret. I went in search for him, for Aleister. He left on a trip; it was a project, a search for the lost city of Atlantis. I hate it, that cursed city, that damned city of fallen angels; it's hell.

Ever since he was young, Aleister had been extremely engrossed in anything to do with Atlantis, he read books about it, looked at maps, asked anyone who could provide him with any information. Then the opportunity came, he was to go with a group of explorers all in search of the sacred city, they wanted to find it and the Desecrated Temple of Adur. It was stupid!

She tried to stop him, because there were many tales of men gone and perished, or simply disappeared. The year he left, he was 15 and she was 13; they had grown up together as children, being betrothed since birth. Ever since they first met, there had always been an intense attraction between the two, and when they reached a more appropriate age, he had declared his love for her.

She waited for him, for more than a year, but she just couldn't stay in the house and look at his picture anymore, she had to do something. So she decided to go find him herself, and she left without a word, without a notice. There were many days of wandering, as a young and naïve girl. She had quickly lost all her money and soon became lost. Roaming from town to city, city to town, she fell into a dream, lost and confused.

Soon, she began to forget and the memories drifted away on their own accord; the reason behind all this, behind everything, why she was doing this. Her depressed mind and torn heart did not want to remember, so slowly, it began to fade, all of it; everything to do with him. It was locked deep inside, in a place that would not be disturbed, or touched; sealed safely with the key thrown away. It remained like that for more than two years, until now, until today.

As the tales of the past were unfolded and retold, the General of the Dragonslayers rose quietly. He did not want to be a part of this. He did not want to experience this transfer of emotions. He wanted to hear no more; he would leave.

Unknowingly, something was burning inside of him, something painful. It was eating at his insides as he tried to suppress the urge to drag her by the hair back to the Vione and burn down this whole blasted town. But there was a fear, you could say that he was frightened, frightened of something that he did not understand, frightened almost of her. This fear was greater than the will to take that bastard Aleister and skin him alive.

She was his possession, his! Damn him for kissing her! Damn her and what she was doing to him. He wanted to crush her, take her out of his sight, be rid of her, but why does he hesitate, why couldn't he do it. It troubles him, this girl. Yes, he was walking out the front gate now, let her stay in this house, let her stay . . . besides, he had other things to tend to anyway.

Behind him, Celena followed, she too, felt out of place, "Dilandau, wait . . ."

Aunt Lydia dabbed the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief as Margaret stood by the window and looked at the cloudy sky. The family was reunited once more. Deré and Aunt Lydia were family to Margaret and Aleister, as they were childhood friends who always did everything together. It was too good to be true, that Deré had finally returned. However, Margaret knew that things would not stay like this; she had seen how the two cloaked figures had left. They were soldiers who carried swords.

Many did not know, but the cheerful city of Gallardias was actually a large weapons exchange port. It was where airships came to restock, especially Zaibach floating fortresses. She hadn't failed to recognize him; it was Dilandau Albatou of Zaibach. The others were oblivious of the fact that they had just invited one of the most dangerous persons on Gaea into their home. The frail girl with long blond hair and cinnamon eyes might not look like it, but Margaret was actually a trained swordsman. She had taken it up after Deré's disappearance. It eased her somewhat to know that the two soldiers had left, but even so, she knew it would not be the end of them.

Deré laughed and laughed and laughed. How good it felt to talk to him again about those times when they were young, just to talk to him. There were so many fond memories to be shared. Aunt Lydia had gone to prepare her room, she would be staying here tonight, maybe not just a night. It was then that she realized that her master and Celena were missing, they had left. When?

She had been so indulged with her family members that she hadn't noticed their absence. Deré stopped chatting and went towards the window where Margaret was looking at the sky. "They left, a few minutes ago."

There was a long pause, "I see . . ."

Of course, why should they stay, they must have felt awkward and out of place. She felt guilty, all this time Dilandau-sama and Celena had taken care of her and now, she had forgotten about them.

"It's alright Deré. You won't need to worry about them anymore."

Yes, perhaps he would return, he cares for her enough to return right? Only, she was unsure.

The rain was falling heavily outside and all through the night, preventing her from having a good nights sleep. Aleister had also come into her room at least six or seven times that night to check on her. Things were somehow complicated. It was strange; she knew that once there had been an immense attraction between the two of them, but now, after three and a half years, it just wasn't the same.

She found it harder and harder to talk with him, at first it had been casual, just recalling things of the past, but now, there was nothing else to talk about. They often found themselves tongue-tied with nothing to say. She was beginning to worry; Margaret was distant, as if she was afraid to get close to Deré from fear of loosing her again. Only Aunt Lydia was the same sweet, gentle aunt who was always there for her when things got rough.

They were in the drawing room where Margaret was playing the piano and Deré and Aleister were seated across from each other. She was thinking about Dilandau-sama and what he and Celena might be doing at the time, when he noticed Aleister staring at her. It was a very uncomfortable gaze, so intense, so _lustful_. She shifted away uneasily towards Aunt Lydia. There were many times like this were she felt nervous and tense. It was not how one should feel with her family. As the second and third day passed by slowly, Deré began to miss him, her master.

"This is our supply list, get it and it had better be ready by morning."

_Dilandau__, I know he's upset, I can tell. God, Deré loves him so much, even though she doesn't realize it yet. Why can't people learn to express their feelings? Why does everyone have to hide their love for others? It would be so much better, and easier, for all of us. _

_It's getting harder now, to pretend, I find myself losing. The darkness draws over me once more, and he is here, in my mind. His voice, his cold demeanor, it brings me back to who I am. His blackness seeps through to me, but it only exists because he believes in it. Why can't he let go? God, just leave it behind, it's not your fault, you've changed. I'm waiting, waiting for you to tell me, to say to me. Every time you call my name, my heart skips a beat, and I yearn to hear it, to hear you say it, three simple words, I love you . . ._

"Celena, let's go. These bastards aren't going to cheat us, they're scared shitless." With a graceful turn of his head, Dilandau stalked off in the direction of their inn.

"Dilandau, shouldn't we go see Deré?"

"What are you talking about! That little bitch left, didn't she? Well, let her go! I would have killed her sooner or later anyways." He was bluffing. It was so obvious and Celena knew it.

"She loves you."

"SHUT UP! You don't know anything and I don't give a damn about love! I DON'T love." Then, he punched the wall and she heard the bricks crack under the pressure of his blow.

"Sure."

It was a dangerous night in the city of Gallardias, as all nights were. The darkness had a life of its own. The moon cast mysterious and sinister shadows across the land, warning mothers to tuck their children safely in bed. Every window was shut and every door locked, because the night was the time for blood; it was the time for evil and deception.

"Stop", Dilandau paused and listened, "we have company."

Celena had heard it too. It came from above, "They're on the roofs."

He felt a suddenly brush of cool air by his left ear and jerked instinctively to the right, just in time to dodge a silver dagger.

As well, a flash of silver flew at Celena's chest, but she drew her sword as fast as lightning, deflecting it with the blade of her sword.

He was getting agitated from the disturbance, not to mention thinking of that girl, "SHOW YOURSELVES, YOU COWARDS!"

"We do not have time for such insolence", hissed Celena, after escaping another sharp dagger.

Then the swords of at least ten cloaked figures came crashing down on them on all sides. Dilandau and Celena stood together, back to back, ready to fight. There was even a slight grin on his face, as if this was exactly what he had been hoping for.

They attacked, five to one. But even though the two Zaibach soldiers were greatly outnumbered, they seemed to have no problem killing the first two attackers within minutes. Although a bead of sweat had trickled down Celena's brow and his blood-red eyes held a glint of anxiety, the two were standing their ground and ready to disassemble more bodies.

"COME AND HAVE A TASTE OF MY SWORD!" yelled Dilandau before he and Celena moved apart, taking on three dark figures each.

She blocked a deadly blow to the right and with her left elbow, broke the nose of the man on her left. He stumble backwards in pain and dropped his weapon. Another swing of steal aimed at her neck proved useless as her quick reflexes were highly superior to that of her enemy. She swung around in what seemed like a millisecond, sinking her blade into his neck. However, a swift dagger from behind caught her slightly unawares, grazing the side of her shoulder and ripping the leather of her armor.

Her anger ignited, Celena did a graceful back flip, landing behind her attacker with her sword embedded in his head. And even as another cloaked figure rushed at her from the left, an immediate reel to the side and appearing suddenly behind him ended any chance of his assault. The man let out a yelp before finding his own blade protruding from his back.

Removing her sword from the bloody head, Celena searched for Dilandau. She didn't have to look long because a piercing scream from one of his attackers twitching helplessly told her exactly where he was. She saw them up on the roof. The man was trying to edge back, except, another shuffle would cause him to fall to his death.

Dilandau's eyes were more red than ever, hypnotizing the terrified man. "Tell me, who sent you, and what you want?" he whispered in a low, eerie voice, pointing the tip of his sword gleefully at the neck of his attacker.

Shaking his head like he'd seen a ghost, the man began to mumble incoherently while Celena watched from below. She sheathed her sword and with one magnificent leap, joined Dilandau's interrogation of their frightened attacker.

Upon seeing another dragonslayer, the man almost fainted in fear, but Dilandau's impatient roar brought him back to his senses, "TELL ME WHO THE FUCK SENT YOU AND WHAT THE HELL YOU WANT NOW! OR I WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE AND TORTURE IT OUT OF YOU!"

Hearing this, the man began to wail, "No, no, please! I beg you! I'll tell you, I'll tell you anything, just don't kill me!"

Before Dilandau could scream at him again, Celena placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and spoke in a gentler tone, "So who is it?"

"MISS MARGARET! IT WAS MISS MARGARET! SHE DIDN'T WANT DE—" He was dead before he could finish his sentence.

"DILANDAU! YOU DIDN'T LET HIM FINISH!"

"I KNOW WHO IT IS!" he screamed in anger, "IT'S THE DAMNED WOMAN SHE WAS WITH!"

Celena thought for a moment and realize as well, that it must be the Margaret who Deré had embraced today, "The woman with the long blond hair."

When Celena turned around, Dilandau was already on the streets below, walking stiffly towards their awaiting inn.

Letting out a sigh, she thought no more of the subject, or what she could do to solve this problem without hurting Deré. Instead, she tried to link her arm in Dilandau's, before he pushed her away roughly; but that was okay, because that was the way he is.

"Dilly-chan, you're so mean! Anyways, let's go celebrate! We just killed TEN people! I know it's not a lot compared to usually but STILL! I WANT A CELEBRATION! . . . "

O4o86

A/N: As you can tell, my fight scene lacks a certain spark. And I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIX IT! Anyone know some basics to writing stuff like that? I never read about it or write about so it's kinda tough . . .


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dedicated to: Alia, Jenny, shy_girl, Karmen Hellfire Albatau, Gina, Sailor Hope, aoao, escalflownefan101, sum1, and Sarina Fannel

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

It was the fifth day of her stay at *home*, except, it didn't feel like home anymore.  It was like living in a dream, in the past.  Aleister was beginning to worry her, he made such licentious remarks, but she felt more annoyed than uneasy.  The dreaded feeling loneliness seemed to have found her again, and there was no Celena to cheer her up.   

Margaret was always sparring in the courtyard.  The girl had really changed over the years.  When Deré was four years old, Margaret had been her baby-sitter.  When she was six, Margaret had took her to school.  When she was eleven, Margaret had played with her; always Margaret, frail and cautious Margaret.  Who would have expected the girl to become a talented swordsman.  But she looked so strong now, with her long blond hair in two braids, and her large cinnamon eyes squinting with concentration; she had will and determination, reminding Deré of the dragonslayers.  

_When will they come back for me, if they're coming at all.  _Her worst fear right now was to be left here.  Even though she loved these people dearly, especially Aunt Lydia who was ever so tender and caring, Deré wanted to go back, back to her master.  They were her family now, this is the past and they are the present.  She had already decided.  This afternoon she would write a letter for Aunt Lydia, explaining herself, and secretly she would leave in search for Dilandau-sama and Celena.     

Walking cautiously down the stairs, Deré was careful not to alert anyone.  Aunt Lydia was taking a nap in her room, Margaret was out jogging, but Aleister was nowhere to be found.  Deré put the letter on the counter; it was sealed in a lavender envelope with golden ink that read, _for my dear ones_.  She hoped that they would understand.  

A single tear slipped from her eye as she gazed at the picture on the counter.  It was all five of them standing in front of a beautiful willow tree.  It had been the middle of spring just before Venice left for the army.  

"Such a lovely picture, isn't it?"  His voice startling her as he reached out and caught the teardrop before it rolled from her cheeks, "and where are you going Deré, and without saying goodbye."  

"Just to take a walk, stroll near the harbor," she tried to reply in a nonchalant tone.  

"Really, shall I join you then? I miss our walks together."  He smiled, an innocent smile that Deré knew was hiding something.  Without waiting for a reply, Aleister lead her out of the house.  

***

Twin figures in black were perched on the rooftop of an inn; one had a sad look upon her face and the other an indescribable expression.  They were gazing towards the west where a forest of golden maple trees stood on a carpet of fallen leaves.  They would be leaving today, back to the Vione, everything was packed and the supplies were ready.

But Celena suggested that they linger a while more, just to watch the setting sun cast rays of pink and yellow, spreading a warm orange glow over the city,.  _Yeah right, thought Dilandau, __I know what she's thinking and she can just forget it, because there is NO way, absolutely NO WAY that I'm going to get that stupid girl!  __She should consider herself lucky.  If I hadn't chosen to SPARE her, she would be DEAD!  MORE THAN DEAD!  The more he thought about it, the more bitter he became, unconsciously gripping and ungripping the hilt of his sword._

"Dilandau, stop that or you'll draw unnecessary attention to yourself.  And besides, if you're so worked up about it, just go and get her."

_GET HER?! GET HER?!  I don't want to GET HER_, he though defiantly.  He was feeling more than bitterness now; he was so mad that the only thing he could do to calm down was imagine himself tearing the blasted town apart, burning it and everyone here to a crisp, _especially that BASTARD Aleister_.

Suddenly Dilandau stiffened as he saw a familiar looking silver-haired girl walking with a tall blond male.  His eyes blazed with furry as Aleister put an arm around Deré, oh yes, he would go down there now and slice up his pretty face.  Just as Dilandau drew his sword, Celena placed a firm hold on his shoulder.  

"What do you want?!" His voice was a sharp snarl, restraint clearly slipping.

She answered in a steady voice, "Wait." 

And as Celena predicted, Deré shrugged him off and faced the man, "Aleister, you have to understand, I don't love you anymore!"

"Don't love me?" he snorted, "what do you mean, you don't love me?"  A few girls turned their heads to stare at him, his voice capturing their attention, 

Dilandau's nerves were threatening to explode, _HOW DARE HE ACT SO ARROGANT?!  SHE OBVIOUSLY DOESN'T LOVE HIM, HOW COULD SHE, WHEN SHE LOVES . . . he paused, thinking about exactly where the trail of thought was heading._

With desperation, Deré tried again to explain, "It's the past now, Aleister.  I know there was a time when we had something together, but it's gone now, it's too far away.  I don't love you and you shouldn't make me.  Please try to understand."  

"Try to understand?" he laughed again, this time causing girls to giggle and point as if Deré was out of her mind.   

Aleister then spoke with a detectable annoyance, "Deré my dear, I think you've mistaken—"

"I HAVE NOT MISTAKEN!"  She shrieked with anger, _why didn't he get it?!  _

Appalled by her behavior, Aleister had a look of disbelief on his face, who does she think she is, to disappear for three and a half years and return to reject him.  Well, no matter, she didn't have a choice, they were betrothed!  There was nothing she could do based on that fact, and to prove it he pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her hard.  She struggled, trying to break away from him and make things clear.  

Dilandau snapped out of his trance just in time to see Deré struggling against Aleister, her face evidently upset.  This made him stand up immediately, yet feeling *much* better.  _Ha! She doesn't care for the blond fool, she's *mine* and she knows it.  _Dilandau grinned and landed elegantly on the street below, followed closely by Celena.  

The crowd scattered, terrified to see the bloodthirsty general and his long thin sword.  Women screamed and shops closed. Soon there were only the four of them left on the street.  

"Dilandau-sama", Deré tried to cry out in a muffled voice, _he hadn't left yet!_  There was a viciousness gleam of hatred radiating from his eyes and a disturbing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  His vision intently locked on Aleister.  

_This man is going to suffer, oh yes, I'll make him suffer until he begs for mercy.  No one touches her except me._  

Finally, Deré managed to detach herself from the blond.  Just as she stepped away, Dilandau attacked.  It was a teasing turn of the wrist, a flick, but it caught Aleister's long glossy hair.  Golden strands fell to the ground as the cold metal of the sword missed his face by a centimeter.  

A sinister laugh escaped the general's lips; he would play with this fool, who was nothing more than a silly pretty-boy.  He struck again, this time marring Aleister's face; a long scar ran from his forehead to his left cheek.  _Fear, I can taste his fear, his fear of me, my sword, and my power.  He will die._  

Aleister raised a quivering hand up to touch his once beautiful complexion.  As the blood trickled down his fingers, he screamed and rushed frantically at Dilandau.  But he was no match against the skillful warrior, with only one kick in the stomach Aleister collapsed, groaning.  The cold steal of the sword was about to make another blow but stopped when Deré let out a cry. 

"Dilandau-sama, please stop this!"  She ran to stand between her master and fiancé.  Dilandau hesitated and glared at her.  

"Please Dilandau-sama, I beg you, spare him!"  But his anger was too great to control, and he pushed the girl out of the way to continue his assault.  

She couldn't just stand there and watch him kill, no, she couldn't do that.  Even though Deré had little affection left towards Aleister it was wrong to watch him die.  She had to stop her master.  When Dilandau pushed her away, she watched in horror as red incisions ruined Aleister's fair, creamy skin.  

"Celena!  Please, stop him!" she pleaded the girl to do something, anything, but Celena wouldn't move.  Having no choice, Deré found herself sandwiched between the two men once more. 

"Dilandau-sama, I will not let you be like this!" 

"GET OUT OF MY WAY YOU STILLY GIRL OR I'LL KILL YOU TOO!"  And he meant it, Dilandau had had enough.  Never had he felt so frustrated, he was trying to help the damned girl and here she was trying to stop him!  Well *fine*, he didn't care anymore.  If she wants to die, that's just *fine* with him!  Ruthlessly he turned to Deré, but not before giving the blond another kick.  

Even though his force was not harsh enough to kill, he hurt her enough to draw blood.  _WHY--CAN'T —I—JUST—KILL—HER?!_  He screamed mentally in irritation.  It was as if sometimes was holding him back and would not allow him to slash deep enough to do any vital damage.  She cried out in excruciating pain.  She was burning, burning in white hot fire.  She screamed over and over again until her throat was raw; it hurt, it hurt so much.  

Celena remained unmoving as Dilandau took his anger out on Aleister.  Although Deré begged her to stop him, she could not.  A long time ago Celena had promised herself to let her counterpart do as he pleased.  She would not get in his way; it was almost a sense of loyalty.  Interfering was not something Celena felt was right; whatever Dilandau chose to do was his choice and his regret.  She was not going to take responsibility.  To her, a silent spectator was far better off than an intrusive fool.  

But it was different when Deré was involved, she was someone close, very close, Deré was her best friend.  Celena reached for her sword and in a commanding tone of voice, demanded him to stop, "That's enough."  

There was a moment of surprise as he paused, as if to consider that Celena, of all people was commanding him.  She never commanded him, she couldn't.  It only made him angrier, his rage was overpowering; there was no restrain anymore and he unleashed his full strength.  Even though a voice inside was screaming for him to stop, he couldn't and didn't; instead, he surrendered to the overwhelming impulse to slaughter and destroy.   

Just as she fell to the ground, unconscious, Deré faintly heard the contact of steal against steal.  There was a strong voice that said, "That's enough."  But the rest was all a blur, and then there was whiteness, alleviated, undisturbed whiteness . . . 

***

As the sun disappeared into the horizon, a clash of swords could be heard in the city of Gallardias.  It was a stimulating battle between water and fire.  They were a female and a male, both with silver hair and porcelain skin.  Dilandau and Celena, both among the most skillful and experienced warriors in all of Gaea—it would be a thrilling battle.  

The ocean roared in her sea-blue eyes and hell blazed in his.  They attacked one another incessantly over and over again, each matching the other's moves.  For an unknowing observer, it would seem as if the battle would last forever, but upon closer inspection, one could see that Celena was tiring.  Her breathing slowly quickened as beads of sweat appeared upon her brow.  Each of his blows was becoming harder to deflect as she felt herself gradually weakening.  

_Where does he draw his strength?  Where does it come from?  His attacks are so powerful, so forceful, it's unbelievable.  During practice, it is not like this.   This sudden burst of energy and ability is overpowering!  I can't continue on like this!_  Soon, the girl would loose her defense, much less attack.

Leaping into the air, she tried to escape; except, Dilandau was too fast for her and grabbed her ankle, pulling her back down.  She attempted the escape three more times and failed thrice, the third time almost tripping.  Gasping, she retreated against a wall, but didn't have time to catch her breath as he striked again, missing her by millimeters.  

"This is foolish, we train together, practice together.  Do you think I don't know your movements Celena?  You can only last for so long; I can predict everything you do.  After all, you are *my* soldier." 

He grinned vilely; her limitation fueled him, made him gleeful.  What was she thinking? To challenge him?  _Ha!_  She was loosing, a single flaw would result in bloodshed.  Barely able to hold her position, Celena glanced at Deré who was unconscious three meters away_.  This has to end!  We must take her back to the Vione, to Lord Folken!_  She gritted her teeth in pain as blood oozed from her right shoulder; he had taken advantage of her lost focus.  Gashes and cuts appeared here and there as Celena struggled to hold back tears of pain.  She would fall soon, very soon.  

Somewhere in the distance, galloping hooves could be heard.  A blond haired woman rode swiftly on a horse-like creature.  She was seeking them; her senses told her where they were.  Two golden braids danced in the wind as she urged the creature to run faster; the unusual heaviness in the air was almost palpable.  

Both warriors were heaving with exhaustion.  Over the past few minutes, she had pitifully managed to slash his arm.  However, it only resulted with more pain for herself.  Finally, Celena couldn't take it anymore.  She felt defeated; her body was tired and her spirit was broken.  As she leaned on a wall for support, there was a sudden flash of gold and silver.  

Cinnamon eyes challenged crimson.  Golden braided tresses swayed with the wind as the girl took on her stance.  Her delicate sword was held at an angle that reflected the moonlight, giving her an angelic touch in appearance and aura.  Margaret knew that she was nothing compared to the girl in black armor, but even so, he had hurt her brother and Deré.  

Dilandau stopped, took one look at the girl and experienced the sensation of getting angry all over again.  Celena forgotten, he immediately turned to the woman before him, the same woman who had sent those men to kill them the other night.

She was quick and she was agile; her movement was light and her eyes never left the opponent.  Margaret was smart; those years of training had finally paid off.  She knew that attacking would cause her to loose, because her sensei had always taught her that a carefully set up resistance could easily be more effective than a series of savage attacks.  

He was confused.  She didn't threaten or intimidate; instead, she resembled a spring.  No matter how hard he hit her, she always bounced back.  If only Celena hadn't worn him out, or this pathetic doll of a female would have been long dead!  It annoyed him to a degree that he felt like dropping his sword altogether and engaging in hand to hand combat instead.  But this trail of thought was interrupted by Celena's sharp cry, "DERÉ! DERÉ!" 

Celena sobbed at the bloody girl in her arms, _Deré__ . . . that self-centered bastard doesn't realize what he's done.  I'm so sorry, so sorry.  _

***

She was coughing up blood.  The red goo was so thick in her throat that she could barely breathe.  Gripping the sheets that covered her bandaged body, Deré sat up, gasping for air.  "Lie down.  You've lost a considerable amount of blood."  

_Who?  What?  Where am I?  Pain, my head is throbbing; not just my head, everywhere.  God, what happened . . ._  She was so tired, her vision was blurry and she felt lightheaded.  Perhaps it was a good idea to lie down; she would worry about things later.  _That was Lord Folken wasn't it?  Yes it was, his smooth monotonous voice is comforting.  She had had a bad dream: there was Dilandau-sama, and Celena, and even Margaret.  They were all fighting and she had desperately wanted to call out, to stop them, but she couldn't move as a chilling cold invaded her.  Like being engulfed in a river of snowy water, she was frozen beyond movement or speech.  _

Folken gently placed a hand on the girl's forehead.  She had a dangerously high fever.  The injuries had all been dealt with and there was no severe damage except to her soul.  The girl would surely remember this day for her life entire life.  It would be forever imprinted in her mind, as even with the best of care, he knew there would be scars.  It was really a shame, because in his eyes the girl was so beautiful, so flawless, but this was the price for loving and being loved by a dark prince such as Dilandau.  He brought nothing but pain and suffering to those he hates and cherishes; it is naturally his way.  Deré was marked now.  He had managed to make him his, physically and mentally.  Even if one day, she managed to forget, to free herself, a part of her will always belong to him.  

Folken stayed by Deré's side and watched over the girl.  When she had fallen asleep once more, he drew the blankets snuggly up to her chin.  It had been so close.  If he had arrived any later, she would have . . . would have . . . he couldn't say it; it was too fearful a thought.  This girl strangely meant a lot to him, and he felt a great sense of protectiveness over her.  Maybe it was how she treated him as a person, as an equal and more.  Maybe it was because of her kindness and the way she cared about him, showed interest in him, asking about his likes and dislikes, trying to understand his past and childhood.  Her love and concern touched him in a way.  _How foolish Dilandau is.  Foolish boy, and he knows it too.  _

***

Dilandau had barged into Celena's room.  The girl, resting in bed, had just finished treating her wounds after a hot shower.  He was searching for Deré, but Celena knew that Folken had taken the broken girl to an isolated room where she could recover in peace; Folken's private room that even Celena hadn't laid eyes upon.  Refusing to reveal Deré's destination, Celena ended up having a big argument with Dilandau.  

They screamed at one another:

"SHUT-UP! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANYMORE!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAME TO *MY* ROOM!"

"I CAME TO ASK YOU A QUESTION.  AND AS I AM YOUR SUPERIOR, YOU ARE TO ANSWER!"

"WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO HURT HER!"

"I WAS NOT!  I—I WAS, SHE GOT IN MY WAY!  IT'S HER OWN FAULT!"

"YOU ARE SUCH A SELFISH, CARELESS, ARROGANT BASTARD!"

"F*** YOU CELENA, JUST TELL ME WHERE THE HELL SHE IS!"

"OBVIOUSLY, LORD FOLKEN DOESN'T WANT YOU TO SEE HER, CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WAS GONNA KILL HER!"

"I CAN'T FIND FOLKEN.  DAMMIT, YOU BETTER TELL ME RIGHT NOW, I KNOW YOU KNOW WHERE SHE IS!"

"HELLO?  I AM TIRED, PISSED, AND HUNGRY.  I JUST SPENT 45 MINUTES FIGHTING WITH *YOU*!  GET THE HELL OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!"

He started to walk towards her, ready to strangle her, but Celena was just as furious, "WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!  YOU ALMOST KILLED DERÉ!  IF IT WASN'T FOR LORD FOLKEN SHOWING UP SHE WOULD BE DEAD!  I WOULD BE DEAD!  AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!  YOU!"

"Stop . . . SHUT-UP! SHUT-UP!  ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

He fell to the ground shaking.  _Is it . . . really my fault?  Why, why did I do it?  WHY?! I didn't want to, I knew it was wrong.  But I couldn't help it, couldn't control it.  Why?  Why do I even care?  Why is there this guilt?  I shouldn't be feeling anything but SATISFACTION!  She's just a damned girl that I was playing with.  Just a weak, useless object . . . that I . . . that I need.  Why is there this painful ache in my heart, if I even have a heart.  If I even have a conscience, why do I feel so horrible . . ._

O4o86 *~

A/N: talk about a bad chapter . . . mumbles unsatisfactorily to herself . . . 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Dedicated to: Alia, coke/amy-chan, Haeru, Rai Dorian, Josh, chimei-nakidasu and Asmathamus

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

_Since this girl Deré appeared on the Vione, Dilandau-sama just hasn't been the same.  He's not as sharp, not as strict; there's even a tint of suppressed kindness in his features.  Even though this may seem as a positive effect, it has let his guard down in a very risky way.  He's become less picky with us, more patient with Celena, and his arguments with Lord Folken have ceased to exist.  You could say he's become soft.  Except, this change is putting him in great danger with his many enemies on and off of the battlefield.  The girl is not aware, but Dilandau-sama's mind is not to be tampered with.  His internal self is very fragile; no one understands that better than we do.  _

_The strong barrier he has cautiously constructed around his mind is something that he cannot lose.  There are rumors of Generals seeking to take his place.  This would be their chance, because to them Dilandau-sama is only a mere boy, one who is not fit to command an army.  This would be their time to attack, while he has a weak point.  They will attack.  It has already started, that day, if Celena had not been watching his back, who knows what would have happened.  The battle had been over, we had already won, but someone was out to kill him, someone, a traitor by the name of General Adelphis.  That is why we hate this girl; she is doing something to our beloved Lord, something that we cannot tolerate, because we cannot bear to see him hurt.  _

Chesta and Miguel peered anxiously out the window of the transport ship, watching and waiting as the sun slowly descended over the horizon followed by the ascending of the moon. It was night now and Dilandau-sama and Celena had been gone for exactly 0:41:23 minutes.  They should have been back half an hour ago, having promised to return in five to ten minutes.  The two dragonslayers had spent the time thinking of their commander.  

They were worried about him, about him and the girl Deré.  She was an outsider; she didn't belong.  She was becoming a problem and they could see it clearly.  She was his weak point.  Dilandau-sama was not supposed to develop any weak points; he was not supposed to have any compassionate feelings.  That was what made him all powerful.  She's ruining him.  

Chesta paced about nervously, "Miguel, do you think we should go search for them?"  Being the more caring of the two, Chesta wanted to go find his Lord; except Dilandau-sama had ordered them to stay put.  

The two slayers were just about dying with anxiety when Folken's voice was heard through the communications device, "You were due hours ago, where is Dilandau?"  

Miguel was the one who replied, "Lord Folken, they've been gone for a while now and haven't returned yet."  

Folken paused before answering, "I will be taking the Vione near the city.  Stay where you are until Dilandau returns."  

Chesta and Miguel exchanged glances, at least now they didn't have to debate over a search or not.  

"Yes Lord Folken," the slayers replied in unison.  They walked towards the window once more and saw a hazy mist glide over the city.  

***

_What might those two be doing, they should have been back hours ago.  It is not good to stay in Gallardias.  Word travels fast in this city; soon we will have unwanted company chasing our backs._  Folken walked towards the balcony of the library, welcoming the feeling of the night air, cool and refreshing against his skin.  The stars twinkled brightly as a breezy wind swept through his hair.  Gently reaching into his pocket, he took out a card.  

It was covered with silver glitter and black feathers; _how appropriate_.  He knew that Celena had feelings for him; he had always known.  _You used to be so shy, so quiet and subtle with that sweet smile lingering on your lips.  In the beginning, whenever our eyes had met, you would nod politely and smile.  But as time passed, you began to seek something; with your head held high and your eyes full of determination you searched for something in my burgundy gaze; a trace, an indication, a clue.  Anything that showed I loved you too.  But there never was; I would never allow it.  _

_Even though in my heart I knew that I felt something for you, it was just unacceptable.  It wasn't right.  In a sense, I was the one who created you; I love you, that is for sure, but what kind of love is it?  For some reason, it feels more like a fatherly type of love than the kind between a man and a woman.  Do I even deserve you?  You, who is so pure and untouched, as innocent as a rose.  Realistically speaking, you had been reborn only two years ago.  There is spite and wit, but you're still just a child, at least to me.  _

_How can I love someone when I am so tainted?  Love is for other people, good people, righteous people; not someone as sinful as myself.  You deserves better.  I am unworthy.  You try so hard to please me; there are more than enough hints given as to what you want me to do.  I understand more than you think I do.  I want to make you laugh, make you happy, but is it alright?  Is it the right thing to do?  The answers to these questions are beyond importance, it is crucial to know!  I cannot bear to see you sad, but even more so, I could never forgive myself for ruining your life.  Before you come too close and fall into the pit of darkness that is me, I will do anything to save you and protect you.  I will not let you waste yourself on me._  

            Lord Folken,

I have something I need to say.  Meet me 

in my room on the night of the full moon, I have 

something important to tell you.

Celena

***

The moon was lovely, as silver as her hair.  It hung proudly against the black dreary sky.  There were only a few more days until he would have to go meet her.  Without reason, he felt like flying, flying to the moon.  It had been so long since he had stretched those tarnished wings.  They were his shame, his mark as a demon.  Slowly, he removed the heavy cloak that concealed his slim form.  The lustrous metal of his right arm glistened in the moonlight as he undid the ivory buttons of his doublet.  It felt crisp and fresh; the tight-fitting leather had become a second skin and it was nice to feel the moist air touch his skin, setting him freeing.  

Then, with a tearing convulsion, the blackness escaped.  Feathers burst in all directions as a pair of night-black wings appeared.  He gripped the railing and lurched forward as the blast of pain passed.  When the calm and collectedness returned, he looked down to see the city of Gallardias.  

Little houses slept dreaming in a blanket of fog.  How beautiful it looked, like a picture from a story book.  But as the mist parted, Folken noticed that there were people on the street, very familiar looking people that happened to be Dilandau and Celena.  Except, they were huddled around something, something that Dilandau held in his arms.  There was also a blond female standing off to the side, with a sword in her hand.  Suddenly, Folken understood; it was Deré.  He instantly spread his wings and embraced the night.  Like a falling angel, he dived to rescue the girl. 

***

_I watch with tears in my eyes.  There is nothing I can do, Aleister is off somewhere, he will go into hiding, too ashamed to show his scared face.  But Deré, even though you're my best friend and I love you, I can't forgive you for what you did.  And what you have done again; the pain you have caused and the pain you will cause again.  I wish for you to die and I wish for you to live.  Venice, my love, he is gone.  My brother, he is not the same.  You, you left, you abandoned me and you're doing it again.  I knew this would happen, and I guess in a way it's not your fault.  But I hate you anyways.  You have found the ones who will care for you now, the ones who will love you.  These people who will risk their lives for you, they are something.  I will leave now, as strangely, I feel out of place.  Goodbye my friend, and may you find happiness in the future._  With a light movement of her fingers against her lips, Margaret kissed the night and her friend goodbye.  

***

_Tap, tap._  His boots against the cold, grey floor—_tap, tap._  As he neared her room—_tap, tap.  As he knocked gently on the door—_tap, tap_.  As he waited with little patience—__tap, tap.  As he didn't care anymore and rushed into the room—_silence_.  To see her standing there, to see her looking like that; to see her face like that, her body like that.  To hurt inside, to suffer and hurt inside, because he did that; he made her like that.  _

"Dilandau-sama . . ."  Her soft, quiet voice, slightly stale, greeted his entry.  _Her voice; he felt the blood pounding in his arteries and his muscles tense.  But no longer did she emit that conforming clemency, no, a foreign note hit him.  Slightly lost, he tried to determine exactly what it was, but after several minutes of staring at her and figuring out nothing, he turned away.  __I will not look at her, or those placid blue eyes that have something strange shining in them.  I can't look at them.  _

"We will be leaving tomorrow night.  You don't have to prepare anything, just be ready by 10:00."  He said this in a cold and distant tone, as if addressing a miscellaneous servant, any old servant.  Only, she was not just his servant, not anymore.  

_He had left in such a hurry, he didn't even wait for my reply.  _She frowned, remember what he had done to her.  A fragment of rage shot through her, causing her eyes to burn, but it quickly faded as she also remembered who she was, and who he was.  _He is Dilandau-sama_, she thought miserably,_ who am I to blame him for anything he has done._  _Who am I to cause him pain, more pain than he already has. _ _I have been ungrateful . . ._ A sudden fit of coughs ceased her thoughts, making her shiver and tremble while reaching for the bedpost.  Deré shook her head sadly in mental defeat before crawling weakly into bed.  

She had just moved back to her room this afternoon, finally able to convince Folken that she was well enough for the transfer.  But really she wasn't; it had taken a lot out of her delicate state.  With the fever only beginning to reside, and the wounds only somewhat healed, she had immediately caught a cold.  Laying her head gently on the soft feathery pillow, she fell into a peaceful slumber under three layers of blankets.  

***

It would be time to leave soon, as her clock read 9:45.  She observed her reflection in the mirror: rosy cheeks and a red nose, a wooly hat on her head and a thick scarf around her neck; a heavy, warm jacket fell to her knees, light pink mittens covered her hands and a pair of soft, leather boots occupied her feet.  Deré had searched throughout her closet for a pair of pants, but found none.  Dilandau-sama had only given her skirts, really short skirts.  But it was too cold to wear skirts now, especially when she had a cold.  She decided to ask Celena to borrow a pair of pants.

The corridors of the Vione were getting chilly with the shifting of seasons from fall to winter.  Soon, it would be snowing.  Glancing out a window, Deré stopped to admire the full moon.  It was so pretty, sleeping amidst shades of black.  The silver sphere hung still in the sky, emanating a mystifying radiance.  It captured her gaze, luring her, tempting her.  It reminded her of something, of someone.  Alone in the sky, surrounded by miniscule twinkles of light, with no one to confide in, was the moon silver moon._  It's mighty.  It's cold.  It's far away.  The moon, I love it but I can never grow close to it, as with Dilandau-sama._  She suppressed a surge of anger by remembering the time.  Prying her eyes away from the glowing orb, Deré hurried off to Celena's quarters.

***

"Folken, please, listen to me, let me explain to you."  The girl begged him, her eyes tearing, to understand.  She wanted, wished so much for him to understand.  There was a volcano of emotion bursting from her heart, her soul, her whole being.  She had waited forever for him, to realize and do something.  But he was so stubborn, so obstinate, he couldn't express his feelings.  Always hiding behind that mask, that damned mask that was killing him.  He needs to be free.  And she wanted to be the one to free him, but he wouldn't give her the chance!  

Grazing her lips gently with his thumb while the rest of his hand lay against her cheek, he spoke in that monotonous voice, "Let it go, it cannot be." 

There had been a slight crack at the end of that sentence, a temporary loss of control, but that was all.  These small incidents where he slipped were the only things giving her hope; hope that he did feel something for her.  "NO! It *can* be!  It can because I love you!"  

The salty water spilled and trailed down now, down her beautiful face.  Sea blue eyes clouded and shut tight.  "I love you, I always loved you.  I thought you knew."  

She placed a hand to her mouth, choking on the tears that flowed from an endless reservoir.  It was like trying to calm a storm, her small frame shook as she cried harder.  It had taken her so long, so terribly long to find the will and courage to say to him those three simple words.  It meant so much for him to know how she felt.  

Ever since she was separated from Dilandau, there had always been a great attraction towards Folken.  She didn't know why but all she wanted was to be with him.  Except, he's always pushing her away and shunning himself from his true feelings.  He didn't even react when she told him!  It had been so hard to tell him, and when she had finally uttered those tormenting words, he had said nothing!  _Nothing! _ It made her mad, really mad.  Even now, he remained silent, just looking at her.  There was a tiny glisten in the corner of his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone.  She couldn't help it anymore, she slapped him; she slapped him hard across the face, the force jerking his head to the side and leaving a bright red mark where her hand had been.  Still, he remained silent, there was a hurricane tearing his insides out but still, he remained silent.  

"WHY DON'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!"  She was about to hit him again when he caught her by the wrist.  It was so fragile; the bone and flesh of her wrist felt brittle in his grip, as if it would break with the slightest pressure.  Finally, realizing that nature was untamable, he let it out.  His burgundy eyes were wild with long suppressed passion as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.  He kissed her to say sorry, to say don't cry anymore, to say I'm here now, to say everything that he wanted to say so badly, but most of all, to say I love you.  

Deré closed the door silently.  She had just witness something very traumatizing, something that was private and personal.  _Celena_ and Lord Folken?_  She never would have guessed.  There had never been any evidence or signs of their relationship.  They never mentioned one another or talked much together.  It was just so shocking.  And it had been so sad, poor Celena; the girl must have been agonizing over this for so long.  Lord Folken too.  She was glad that they had finally expressed themselves and that everything would be fine now.  But she felt guilty, guilty for intruding upon their privacy.  Even though it had been an accident, she should have left right away; expect she couldn't because it reminded her somewhat of her own conflictive relationship.  But her trail of thought was interrupted as an irritated voice was calling for her, "DERÉ!  WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!  IT'S F***ING 10:05!"  _

O4o86*~


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Dedicated to: YingFa8, Eboni, j, genki doll, Snowy*~, and me

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

The carriage swayed rhythmatically with the constant beating of hooves.  It was a cold night, transforming each exhale of breath into little clouds of white vapor.  He stroked her hair repeatedly, running his hand affectionately through the silver locks.  In an unwavering cadence, his fingers touched upon the tresses and combed gently, in and out, in and out.  With her head in his lap, the girl had fallen asleep shortly after leaving the Vione.  

In a way, he felt at peace with her so close to him.  She always calmed him, like a remedy for his troubled mind.  Her soft voice, her docile movements, her ways of soothing him in a way no one else could, in a way that not even she, herself knew was possible.  However, at times it confused him.  The gentle girl stirred feelings inside of him that were beyond his understanding.  This lack of comprehension lead to frustration, frustration that resulted in anger.  

She shuddered in his lap, the cold night air invading her small frame even through layers of clothing.  The girl shivered and coughed now and then, with a slight frown at the corner of her lips indicating the discomfort.  He would have to do something about it soon.  Dilandau began to unbutton the buckles of his armor.  Careful as not to disturb her, he quietly slipped off a thin, sleeveless undershirt.  It was warm and soft, perfect for him to drape over her exposed thighs.  Hesitating, he examined her wounds.  The milky-white skin was blemished with unhealed scars, bringing back to him that aching feeling again.  

It was a kind of pain that wasn't physical and yet hurt more than anything.  He turned his eyes away, unable to think about it any longer, willing himself to stop thinking about it.  What's done is done.  There is nothing more he can do now.  She shuddered one last time before her breathing evened out and relaxed.  He felt her hand grasp his unconsciously in her sleep while a faint smile etched itself across her face.  Somehow, the autumn night's chill felt a little warmer and without thinking, he continued to stroke her hair.  

***

A large familiar room.  Spacious.  Domed sunroof.  Red.  The massive mirror on one wall reviled a familiar image.  It was his room; his room in his palace-like mansion of _Muertia_.  It had been a gift from Emperor Dornkirk himself, rewarded to Dilandau for his bravery, leadership, and skill.  With her head propped up on one elbow, Deré lay on her side, studying her reflection.  He wasn't there, wasn't beside her.   

_Mirror, mirror, on the wall,_

_Why is it so frustrating and perpetual?  _

_Again I find myself in the same state of mind, _

_Searching for answers I still cannot find._

_Alone, I am no more . . ._

_I wish, no more than what I have . . ._

_I am uncertain, afraid to face,_

_Afraid to go on with this unsteady pace._

_Today, another day, and tomorrow, another night,_

_Forever it seems, I'm screened from the light._

_Hiding, am I?_

_Avoiding, am I?_

_But why?_

_Answers, the answers I already know,_

_Hope, the hope I want to hold,_

_But scared, yes scared;_

_Untamable, intangible . . . _

_I've sold my soul . . ._

_Waking up again, I find myself in the state of mind as before.  The sun continues to shines as droplets of gold water the room.  The mirror laughs at me, laughs at me and what is missing.  Its taunting reflection seems to say, look at you who have given your soul away.  You've sold it to the devil and you love it. _

She touched the silky, velvety texture of the bed sheet, as red as blood.  Smoothing a portion of it, Deré let her fingers dance, tracing the contours of something in her mind.  _I feel . . . I felt . . . I had felt happy.  Such a simple word, and yet it means so much.  Happy.  I had a dream last night.  It was cold, within a forest of beasts.  Darkness fell and the long, gnarled branches clawed and reached for me.  Lost in despair, I could only sit there on the damp gloomy earth.  But the shadows were interrupted by a glowing presence, one upon a horse.  A prince; my prince from my childish fantasy.  Shinning white amour, snowy white stallion; it could only be my rescuer, my savior.  But his face was a blur, and the dream had ended there._  Unintentionally, she had written his name on the red cloth and it made her hand tremble.  

Was it him?  Was it who she thought it was, who she wanted it to be?  Was the dream something created by her mind, trying to tell her, to finally confirm what her heart already knew?  But the hazy happiness was soon washed over by depression as she looked at herself, looked at her body and his work of art.  It was proof now, of just how much he hated her.  Anxiously, she told herself, _I'm not mad at him anymore, because it's really not his fault.  He didn't know what he was doing . . . I forgive him. _ Except, ambiguous thoughts like those did no more than trigger a scolding by the voice in her head, _He tried to *kill* you!  Don't you realize yet?!  What are you thinking?!  Prince?!  Gaea help us, you really are an idiot.  PRINCE? . . . the prince of darkness and evil maybe!  _

She shut her eyes, imagining a whiteness that stretched forever, forcing her mind to clear.  

***

Dinner had been very awkward.  

The dining hall of Muertia was cheery with jokes and laughter, echoing loudly through the halls.  Gatti screeched about a teddy bear he found in the storage room with Chesta's name on it, giving the rest of the group a really good kick.  Everyone was laughing hysterically as Dalet threatened to burn it if Chesta didn't admit it was his teddy.  The fireplace was ablaze with glowing flames.  And the marble, the beautiful black marble with silver specks, defining the floor, walls, and ceiling, gave the effect of a starry universe.  

Not knowing that the dragonslayers had also accompanied their General, Deré had looked forward to being with Dilandau-sama alone.  Their gay voices slowed her walking as an almost disappointed frown appeared on her face.       

When they saw her, the atmosphere changed.  Timidly and somewhat alarmed at their strange behavior, she sat herself down and stared at her plate.  The group greeted her with silence, merely acknowledging her presence with blank expressions while they continued with their meals.  Confused, she quickly searched his eyes, her own filled with uncertainty and anxiety; except, he only smiled: a tiny raise of the brow and a slight curve of his lips; that was all.  The rest of dinner had continued in that fashion.  There was no chatter, no conversation.  Everyone seemed to be somewhere else, thinking of something else.  All that could be heard was the metallic clang of forks and knives.  

***

She couldn't' sleep that night.  It had never troubled her much before, but this was it, she couldn't stand it anymore.  There was definitely something wrong with the dragonslayers.  Ever since the first day she arrived at that camp, they hated her.  Why?  What did she ever do to them?  In fact, she's never even spoken to any of them before.  How ridiculous it is!  Feeling horribly confused and angry, Deré decided to approach one of them the following day.  She had to figure out what was going on.  

Another reason that sleep seemed far away was perhaps, because today felt like a repetition, so similar to the first night and yet so different.   It was too dark to see their reflection in the mirror, but she already knew what it would looked like, because she could *feel* the image.  Encircling her waist was his arm, and inches from her head lay his, so close beside her that she could feel his even breathing on her neck.  Thinking of these mental images took her mind off the dragonslayers.  She looked up through the domed sunroof, and saw the twinkling of happy stars. 

Suddenly, she felt him place a hand against her cheek.  It startled her, made her heart beat a hundred times faster.  But slowly and gradually, she calmed down and relaxed.  Then, the drowsiness finally came and she felt herself slipping into dream world, but not before glimpsing one last time at the sky.  

***

"I think she's just a silly girl."  The sound of stone against metal halted as Miguel stopped polishing his sword.  He held it up and inspected his reflection in the blade.  Satisfied, he nodded with content.  

"Well, the truth is, I think she's quite dumb.  I mean, you'd think that if there was this whole group of people ignoring you, you'd get the idea."  

"But Gatti, think about it, she got the idea, that's why she went to talk with Miguel."  Viole was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed.  He didn't like Muertia, the training room was too big, too spacious; a dangerous feel.  

"I say one of us should go and kill her, that'll fix everything."  

"No it wouldn't, that would just make Dilandau-sama skin us all alive!  Really Gatti, you are so immature sometimes."  Even though Miguel had a great dislike towards Deré, he wasn't stupid enough to murder her.  Right now, he wondered how she felt about the way they treated her.  _What am I thinking, who cares what the slut thinks, she's dangerous and that's all there is to it.  _

Viole studied Miguel closely; he could tell that the boy was thinking about something.  It seemed the only Viole himself sided with the girl, although he would never admit it.  Deré was . . . was part of the family now.  On a positive note, she made Dilandau-sama happy, and Celena too.  She had brought in an air of long forgotten care with her.  

She had tried to talk to them before too, more than once, watching them and trying to become closer.  But they turned her away, never gave her the chance.  Especially Gatti, who couldn't stand the way Dilandau-sama had changed.  

It had been subtle at first; however, as time passed it was evident that Dilandau-sama had indeed changed.  He was a happier man, nicer.  Except, with that came a sense of confusion.  He became distorted and confused.  It was simple really, the girl made him think about things he never would have thought of before.  

To Viole, the only troubling fact was, how did she do it?  Why is it that this particular girl could change him so?  After all the other *ladies* he had been with, why her?  If Viole remembered correctly, Deré had been with them for nearly 5 months now, whereas the other girls had only lasted for a little more than 2 to 3 weeks.  It really was something to think about.  

"Viole, why are you starring at me?"

"Hmm?  It's nothing . . . tell me, what did she say exactly?"

"Why don't I let Chesta tell you, I have to go do something right now anyways," and with that, Miguel left and headed for his room.  

For some unknown reason, talking to Deré had changed his attitude towards her.  It had been a little weird.  She was so sweet, and _humble?  No, that wasn't right.  Whatever it was the girl made him feel guilty.  She wasn't at all what he had excepted her to be.  What had he excepted?  __An enchantress?  He saw her almost everyday, and yet, she was entirely different from what he imagined.  _

She was nice.  

Nice and friendly, and real . . . not some silly girl, or vile snake.  Even more so, Deré had looked hurt and sorry.  She even said that she would try to fix whatever damage she had caused.  Maybe it was all an act, a scheme to take him off his guard.  Nevertheless, he felt bad for hating her.  And after their little chat, he seemed to constantly have to remind himself why he hated her.  _It's for Dilandau-sama, this girl must not become a part of us!_  Except, it was hard, because it really couldn't be her fault if she was unaware.  

_"You're Miguel right?"  Her voice was melodic and crisp, soft to the ear.  _

_"Yes, that would be me.  May I help you Lady Deré?  Lost perhaps?"  He tried to brush her off, detach himself.  _

_"No, I was wondering if I could ask you something."  _

_There was hope in her eyes, hope that he would stay and answer whatever it was that she wanted to ask.  But he wouldn't talk to her, didn't want to.  _

_"Actually, I'm quite busy . . ."  But before he had the chance to finish his sentence, she reached out her hands and gently grabbed his arm. _

_"Please, it's . . . it's important."  _

_He was getting slightly annoyed at this point.  He did have something to do, he had to go find Chesta.  But something about the way she looked, especially her eyes, which he had failed to noticed were so very blue.  He found himself lost in her misty-blue orbs.  _

_"Miguel?"  Her voice was as quiet as a whisper, but efficiently snapping him out of his trance.  _

_Feeling ridiculous as a streak of pink painted itself across his nose, he answered without thinking, "What is it?"  _

_"My question.  I wanted to ask you, do you hate me?"_

_It came as a shock; so blunt.  There was nothing intended, but it was just so straightforward, hitting the core of the problem.  He found himself at a loss for words.  Honesty would be the right path, except, it didn't seem right to say 'Yes I hate you' at the moment.  _

_So instead, he had asked, "Why do you think that?"  _

_She thought for a moment before replying, "I have feelings you know . . ."  _

_And oh, how it struck him.  Of course she had feelings, but why did it seem so dreadful for her to say that.  He felt disgusted.  Disgusted with himself and her.  _

_"If you did then you would realize that you're hurting him."  He looked away, didn't want to see her reaction.  A smile perhaps?  Maybe she would.  But instead of what he excepted, he heard a muffled crying.  _

_An uncomfortable silence formed between them.  He fiddled with his gloves, unsure of what to do.  Should he comfort her?  Or walk away?  _

_Thankfully, he didn't have to do anything.  She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, "I'm sorry . . . I . . . I'll try to fix it.  I understand now, the dragonslayers care about him a lot, and . . . and I care about him too, I would never . . . can never imagine . . ."  _

_Then, she ran off.  _

_Miguel was left to ponder over what had just happened.  He had just met and talked with the object of his deepest resentment; except, he felt guilty.  _

Still walking along the halls of Muertia, Miguel brushed a piece of hair out of his face.  He thought about Deré, and how she had feelings too.  

O4o86*~

A/N: _Muertia is a word that I made up based on the Spanish word _la muerte_, which means death.  _


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Dedicated to: Steph, Tina, fOX-SPIRIT AKA Y.V, Ravy-chan, and TigerWolf

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

She carefully placed the hot towel over the wound on her leg.  Biting her lower lip, Deré let the pain wash over.  This would be done repeatedly until she felt cleansed.  It took long hours each night; dipping the towel in the hot water, wringing it until it was semi wet, and then the hardest part—contact with the skin.  And so, here she was again, like every other night, in the large bathroom of _their_ room.  

It was actually a very nice place to be.  The walls and floor were surprisingly not red, but white.  There was an oval shaped mirror embroidered with platinum designs, a basket of red roses beside the sink, and a towel rack that stood just beside the large tub.  The atmosphere was light and comfortable.  

She was sitting on a towel placed at the edge of the tub, her somber features revealing something bothering her, something that she couldn't stop thinking about.  A lone sentence repeatedly ran across her mind:

_If you did then you would realize that you're hurting him._  

It had come as such a shock.  She was hurting him.  Hurting him.  It wouldn't stop haunting her, those words.  How much truth they held, she didn't know, but the possibilities were there!  Had she ever thought about it, she might have realized sooner.  Maybe it was she, herself who was harming him.  Oh, how horrible she felt.  And at that moment, the door of the bathroom opened with a soft click.

He walked up to her and stopped as she turned her face away, unable to look into his blood red eyes.  There was a barrier between them that hadn't existed before, an invisible wall that she had newly constructed.  Nervousness plagued her still form, gripping nervousness unlike the type which was instilled by fear, but rather, nervousness of the heart.  

She saw him with new eyes, new consideration.  She felt _shy.  Except she _never_ felt shy with him.  How odd a feeling it was to deal with, and at a time like this, in her awkward position at the edge of the water.  She heard him undressing, clothes falling down to the white, tiled floor.  Stealing a quick glance, she began to fumble uneasily with the towel in her hands.  _

He seemed to regard her with fascination and annoyance.  She felt him sit down beside her, his lean form relaxed.  He was wearing his boxers; _blue silk.  A pale hand reached out lazily and found hers; it took away the hot towel and dropped it into the water.  He placed a finger beneath her chin to tilt her face upwards until their eyes met.  _

There was a slight smile on his beautiful face, one that reached his eyes, which were rarely joyous.  All was forgotten as she closed her eyes to let him guide her, his lips only centimeters from her own.  However, the magical moment came to a halt.  

He paused and all that could be heard was the call of the arigriss perched on a tree.  She opened her eyes, confused. 

"Why are you blushing?"  He seemed amused with her unusual behavior.

And for a second, she continued to stare at him; bewildered.  She hadn't even realized!  With him, she had never been embarrassed, never shy, and certainly never blushed!  It must have been absurd for him!  

"It's the heat."  

"Really?"  He sounded unconvinced but left it at that, thankfully for Deré.  But the magical moment had passed and was lost.  Instead, he reached into the tub and retrieved the soaking towel.  Then, lowering himself into the hot water, Dilandau leaned forward.  As gently as he could, he let the hot cloth graze over the wound on her leg.  He saw her tense with pain, but relax again, and he was satisfied as he proceeded.

***

Another week had passed and Deré's wounds had reduced to ugly scars.   But her nervousness around her master had increased.  Every time she saw him, she turned the other way.  It was really quite irritating, but it couldn't be helped.  She felt the rosy pigment splash across her face whenever he was near.  But these thoughts would be put aside for now, because she had overheard the dragonslayers talking of the arrival of Lord Folken and Celena.  This joyous news promised excitement and happiness, temporarily disposing of her worries.  

She missed the girl.  If remembering correctly, on the night she left, Celena and Lord Folken had just cleared up their misunderstandings and declared love for one another.  Deré had been worried for the girl, and there was still that feeling of guilt.  Deré let out a sigh, she only hope that they were happy and thankful now, having found one another.  She would have to see when they arrive.  

***

A light snow was falling, covering the earth in a blanket of white.  Snowflakes adorned the bare black branches of countless trees, giving the appearance of snowblossoms.  A delicate frost was sprinkled over the many windows of Muertia as icicles hung from the roofs.  The forest gleamed, mysterious and beckoning; dreamy like a mirage.  Glazed over, the evergreens stood, wearing their new elegant gowns of silver.  An arigriss was perched atop the tallest one, calling, the sound distant but clear.  The pond was frozen; a flawless, sparkling mirror of ice.  Everywhere she looked, golden sun and downy white gave birth to the beauty of a winter morning.  

Everyone was gathered in the garden.  Folken and Celena had surprisingly appeared at the door at 6:15 am, two hours early and only minutes after morning practice began.  Luckily, Dilandau was in a good mood and summoned everyone outside.  The two women were wearing long furry coats as they hugged each other and began chattering non-shop.  Meanwhile, the dragonslayers, excluding Chesta who wanted to save the snow, were having a snowball fight.  The two men exchanged greetings and walked together slowly, away from the group.  

From the expression on Folken's face, Dilandau knew that he had something important to tell him.  As patiently as he could, the young General waited for the Strategoes' news.  And finally, after more than ten minutes, Folken spoke slowly, "You already know that there is a struggle between the internal continents."  

There was a pause as he organized his thoughts, "Emperor Dornkirk has decided that now is time for us to intervene."  

"But he gave royal affirm that I was to be excused from this nonsense!  My dragonslayers are elites! We do not fight petty wars that do not concern us!"  

"You have been given direct orders to accompany General Chey Lastone in a territorial invasion." 

Folken waited to hear Dilandau's upsurge of rage, "*WHAT?!*  FIRST OF ALL, I REFUSE TO GET INVOLVED WITH THOSE INFERIOR COUNTRIES AND FURTHER MORE, I WILL NOT BE *ACCOMPANYING* THAT BASTARD CHEY!  WHO, WHY IS THIS EVEN HAPPENING?! WHY DOESN'T DORNKIRK JUST LET THOSE PATHETIC EXCUSES OF A COUNTRY TO SCREW THEMSELVES OVER?!"  

He huffed and he puffed and the snow around them seemed to melt as all was silent.  _Chey__?! Dilandau hated that name and hated even more the person who owned it.  At eight years of age, Chey had been sent to train with Folken, who at that time had also been teaching Dilandau.  The two boys had been good friends until a particular incident took place.  After Chey left the Vione to return to the homeland, the only time they ever met again was on the battlefield, and never face to face.  _

Having expected this eruption, Folken continued in a nonchalant tone of voice, "He believes that it is time for us to take matters into our own hands and end these pointless battles.  He would like the lands to be claimed for Zaibach under the name of General Chey Lastone, however, he understands that this is a difficult task, and so he has asked for the assistance of the great General Dilandau Albatou.  We must also remember that General Chey is the direct heir to the throne as he is the grandson of the Emperor."  

Dilandau rolled his eyes and threw a snowball at the nearest tree, knocking down a squirrel-like creature which quickly scurried away with it's tail between it's legs, "Folken . . . just shut the hell up, he is not *asking* me anything, he's *ordering* me.  Damn Chey . . ."  

Folken remained silent, looking back at the trail of footprints in the snow.  He breathed deeply, "I assume that you have decided to agree?"  

"Does it look like I have a f**king choice?"

***

The snow continued falling, burying the land in white.  Celena embraced the girl with long silver hair.  She felt like a different person, a new person.  Too much had happened; some good, some bad.  She remembered the day when they had first met, the shocked look that had been on Deré's face.  

_It seemed like years and years ago, that day.  It seems so far away.  I still had on that silly mask back then.  What a fool I had been, living in a fantasy world and unable to face reality, when I had just been freed from insanity.  Trapped was I, trapped like a helpless child.  Even though physically released, emotionally, I was far from it.   _

_Still to this day, I ask myself, why didn't I tell him earlier?  But I don't know, and I still don't know.  Dilandau, sooner or later, he will have to realize, must realize, the importance, the value . . .  It may be too late, but I will guide him.  She is the only one who can save his soul, who *is* already bringing him back from the darkness he has fallen into.  _

_He has changed.  Folken knows it, I know it, the dragonslayers know it.  But it is not enough to change.  There must be realization.  You are no one, unless loved by someone.  And so, brother, for I see you as my brother, I pray for you, because I have found inner peace, and so must you.   _

Celena wiped away a small droplet from the corner of her eye.  Smiling warmly, she took the girl's hand and squeezed them gently, "I have found inner peace." 

The two girls continued to talk about their days away from each other.  Celena filling Deré in on her relationship with Folken, and Deré in return, sharing her days spent with Dilandau and the dragonslayers.  The chatter continued and the two friends found themselves laughing and crying together; separation had brought them closer.  It was only when an angry shout from Dilandau was heard, that Celena stopped their conversation and began another.  

"Deré, I have to tell you something."  

Blue eyes searched through lighter blue as Celena carried on, "We will be going away for a long time.  A war is about to start, a bloody war of dominance.  Emperor Dornkirk's ambition has lead him to crave control over the interior continents, which are currently at war with one another."

Deré lowered her head, the thought of her master going away to war was not pleasant.  Although he was one of the best, with an elite army, it was still dangerous, "How long will you be gone?"  

"I'm not sure . . . because Dornkirk thinks that this is going to be simple, the old fool doesn't know that he's being lead like a dog.  There are few who remain loyal, to him and his successor, Chey Lastone."  

Celena shook her head in frustration, not knowing how to explain the situation.  "You see, Dornkirk is old and ill.  They, the conspiracy within the inner court, know it.  But they also think that Chey is too young to take the throne, being only 17.  This means that they will be doing all they can to be rid of him.  

"The next in line is an elder, but he will be easy to take care of.  That leaves Dilandau, who's next on the list."  

Eyes opening wide from shock, Deré grabbed onto Celena, "No, they're going to hurt him too aren't they?!"  

"Somehow, they've tricked Dornkirk into letting only Chey and Dilandau go together on this assignment.  They must have decided that this would be the most efficient way to kill the both of them.  But the enemy is not to be underestimated.  There are more than forty countries making up the internal continents, and even though they are at war, they still have numerous armies.  They can easily overpower us in numbers."  

"Celena, don't go!  I don't want you, Dilandau-sama, or Lord Folken to get hurt!  Or worse, what if you don't make it back!  Please!"  

She was more than concerned, she was frantic.  _What can I do?!  I know that Dilandau-sama will obey his orders no matter what.  Oh, why so soon?  And the dragonslayers, there are no guarantee that they'll all return safely.  The more she thought about it, the more worried she became.  But before she could speak again, Celena interrupted, "That's not the only thing we have to worry about.  Dilandau and Chey also have conflicts.  I can't help but imagine that Chey will be plotting something against him.  _

The reason that I'm telling you all this is for you to keep a watch on him, him and his bitch.  Joselin can't do much because she has no combat skills, but she's still as vile as a serpent."  

"But how am I going to do that?  Doesn't Dilandau-sama and everyone else know?"  

"Of course we all know!  And he expects it from us too, but he doesn't know you and he would most likely assume that you're . . . well . . . you know what I mean.  I'm sorry, but it works to our advantage.  Because they're coming here instead of meeting on the battlefield, we must watch him carefully.  It's always most dangerous when you're not allowed to eliminate your enemy."  Celena stopped talking and looked at Deré.  The girl was staring up at the sky, her mind off somewhere else.

_I know what I am.  To them, to anyone, I am just his tool, his instrument; a useless, helpless servant.  As each day passes, I am forced to face the fact, the fact that I love him.  When I see him my heart beats faster, my head spins and I must look away, ashamed.  One of my standing does not and cannot begin to image an intimate relationship with her master.  But I cannot help it or prevent it.  _

_More and more, I find myself drifting off, fantasizing, picturing, and pretending.  And when I wake up from my dreams, I cannot stop myself from crying inside.  Even though I have promised to shed no more tears, to be stronger, I feel them leaking from an endless reservoir.  It disgusts me, my weakness.  I must learn to suppress my feelings.  They are forbidden and the consequences unthinkable.  If we were to be together, be something more than just the master and his servant, I would be endangering him, being a weakness for his enemies to use against him.  I understand so much.  But it's sad isn't it, how life, my life has turned out this way . . . twisted by fate._

***

The girl held a red rose in her hand, carefully plucking each petal and letting it fall gently to the ground.  She was sitting on the wooden floor with her head upon the lap of a young man.  His bangs were shading his eyes as the dark curtains enclosed them.  Long sage colored hair draped down from her head, hiding a sinister smile.  The silky burgundy of her nightgown appeared black under the dimly lit lamp on the nightstand.  But oddly, he was in a silvery white amour, marking him as the prince of Zaibach.

O4o86*~

A/N: The arigriss is a bird!!  My sister made it up so it's not real^^, and Chey's name is pronounced *Shay*

*Also, thx to Eboni for my new summary idea


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you so much, YingFa8 for reviewing constantly.  It makes me very happy to know that new people are actually still reading this.  I'll try to update frequently, but I'm almost up to date with the newest never-been-posted chapter, so I'm quite excited^^.  Anyways, enjoy~!

Dedicated to: Ah Young Song, Dragonsbane, Esca Angel7, Ryoki, Dilandau, shadypony, Raviel, ~littledragon~, Angel, chibi-ken14, Radicalgrl, dragoneyes, shiro tenshi, Sess, cpt Kenny, and silvia

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

Dilandau was ranting in the hallway, "I WILL NOT WELCOME HIM!  I WILL KILL HIM!  I WILL DISPOSE OF THAT ARROGANT BASTARD AND THAT GIRL!"  

He stomped back and forth on the second floor.  

Straightening the tuffs of her dress, Celena replied calmly and walked gracefully down the large, winding staircase, "You know you can't do that.  Yet.  Now, come down the stairs and stand here, they'll be arriving any minute."  

"I WILL NOT!  I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM!  DAMN IT!"  With that said he picked up a vase of roses and threw it at a nearby painting, causing the flowers to fly everywhere and the great silver-framed canvas to fall and crack, completely ruined.  Paying no heed at all, Dilandau muttered some more and left to find his slayers.  

Having watched the whole incident from the open door of their room, there was an instinct for her to run after him, but she thought better of it.  At that moment, there was a great knock announcing the arrival of their guests and Deré saw Lord Folken and Celena open the heavy, mahogany doors; Dilandau-sama was absent.

She stayed on the second floor, hiding in the shadows as Chey Lastone and Joselin walked into the entrance hall of Muertia.  The first thing that caught her eye was the girl named Joselin.  Standing tall and proud, with long, sage colored hair running down her back and stopping neatly at her waist, she looked like the princess of serpents.  The girl's eyes were luminously golden, catching the light as if she could see everything.  Her appearance was breath-taking.

A long, burgundy colored dress with lazy, crisscrossing folds fit her like a second skin.  It was so tight that every curve on her body was clearly outlined; spare her legs as on both sides there were two long slits that reached up to her hips.  Even more indecent was the semi-transparent fabric, leaving her night colored bra and panties openly visible.  

Deré was astonished by her inappropriate dress, as beautiful as she was.  Even more intriguing was the expression on her face.  The tiny smile on perfect lips was highly seductive, accompanying the shrewd, golden of her eyes gazing from one place to the next slowly and mysteriously as if she owned the world.

The shining, silver earring at the top of his right ear was the next thing to capture her vision.  Chey slid an arm around Joselin's slim waist as they began walking towards the living room.  His dark, black hair fell smoothly around his head from a centre line, one side slightly longer than the other, covering his left eye.  Surprisingly, instead of a dark color, he was dressed in a silvery white amour, _a prince in shining white amour.  It was weird; wrong.  _

The pureness of white didn't fit the scene; it just wasn't right.  She felt as if he was in the wrong clothes, that the white amour should be reserved for a more suitable prince.  But something else attracted her attention, Chey happened to look incredibly similar to her master.  Apart from their skin color and hair, there really wasn't much of a difference between the two. They were the same age, same height, same build, and even trained by the same swordsman.  Their faces both held a touch of indefinable passion and secrecy, with the same kind of expressions; however, what was most compelling was the contrasting color of their eyes.  Where Dilandau's was bloody-red, Chey's was peacefully green.  She didn't understand why, but instantly, there were intense feelings of sharp caution and revulsion towards the couple.  Descending slowly, Deré followed them into the living room.

***

"Ah, here is Lady Rei, Dilandau-sama's new servant."  

Instinctively, she curtsied and lowered her gaze.  _Lady Rei?  I guess my name is to be kept a secret . . . "Please to meet you Lord Chey, Lady Joselin."  _

There was a slight quirk of her brow as Joselin acknowledged the girl, but Chey seemed puzzled, and frowned, "Where is the rumored woman who has managed to tame our infamous Lord?  What was her name?  Deré, was it not?"  

Suddenly, her master marched into the room, right pass Chey and towards the wine cabinet, "Tsk tsk Chey, I always thought that you had better judgment than to believe silly rumors.  Hmm, I guess I was wrong."  

A light shrug and a smirk could be seen as he poured himself a glass of red wine.  Her immediate dislike towards the heir and his mistress only increased when Joselin set her golden eyes firmly onto Dilandau, starring straight into his eyes.  Deré watched intently as for a second, as his gaze trailed momentarily over the girl's half-exposed breasts.  

That second; it was almost unnoticeable but she saw it.  Deré let out a shaky breath, it can't be helped, the girl was just too entrancing.  But she found it unforgivably hard to breathe when Joselin bounced up from her seat and embraced her master, kissing him on the cheek and causing the red liquid to spill onto the carpet.  But thankfully, he brushed her off harshly, shoving her away with a look of annoyance and disgust.  

_Was I jealous?  Feeling so awful, affected so much by such a little act? . . . really, is it necessary?_  Her thoughts were briefly interrupted as an unexpected, high-pitched whine startled her, "Chey!  Dilandau doesn't want to give me a hug!"

Chey gently pet her head as he said, "Dilandau, do you realize what you just gave up, and so ungentlemanly too.  Thousands would risk their lives for the luxury of just gazing upon her.  Isn't that right darling?"  

Deré cringed at what her master might do from that snide remark, but luckily, he only snorted and then chuckled, "Do you really believe that?  Time to hit the bar, old pal."  

His last word dripping with sarcasm, Dilandau turned his back and began to leave.  But Chey also rose from his seat, "You overstep your boundaries, General."  

Instantaneously, the two men were facing each other.  Dilandau had his sword drawn and against Chey's neck; with obvious vigorous restrain, he answered, "I do as I please, General."  Then, returning the weapon to its scabbard, he exited the scene.  

***

She found him sitting on a chair in front of the mirror, he looked depressed and irritated.  The stars were shinning brightly through the sunroof, somewhat lighting the dark room.  "Dilandau-sama . . ."  

In an unhurried speed, Deré found her way to the chair and placed herself on the floor next to him.   He seemed deep in thought, his breathing heavy and unsteady.  "It's not . . . it's not what you think, what they think . . ."  

He shook his head, running his hand repeatedly through his silver hair, "I don't want . . . this.  Anything.  It's not what they think . . . I didn't want it like this . . . he's still . . . he . . ."  

Letting out a deep sigh, he covered his face with his hands, "F***.  Why can't I . . . why can't I be more . . . myself . . . where is it?!  Damn him.  So tiring . . . every time, every time it's the same . . . every time . . . except . . . you . . ."  

Not knowing what to do or what he was trying to say, Deré reached for his hand, which was balled into a tight fist.  She gently opened it, massaging his palm and entwining his fingers with her own.  But without warning, he pulled away and struck the mirror with such force that it shattered into a million pieces in front of them.  Immediately, with shaking hands, she covered her face from the glass, heart beating at its maximum rate.

***

"What do you think you're doing in my room and on my bed?"  

He spoke words devoid of emotion, his features and voice, as cold as stone.  There was a tiny trace of a crease across his forehead, but it quickly vanished into nothing.  One would not have suspected that Dilandau Albatou was, at this moment, engaged in a mental war.  His mind was in chaos.  Just being able to appear clam and collected was drawing most of his energy.  He did not want her to have the satisfaction of seeing him break, seeing him weaken.  Her replies would hold the power to crumple him and he knew it.

A pool of silky green flowed from the feathery pillow on the bed to the carpeted floor below.  Golden eyes watched him, upside-down.  The sneaky smile on her lips tempted him, proposing dangerous games.  

Lying on her back with her legs straight up against the wall, Lady Joselin put on an ingenuous face, "Why, I'm waiting for you, my dear,"  

She paused to wait for his reaction, deliberately running one leg slowly and seductively over the other; back and forth over her soft, tanned skin.  Receiving no response from him, she scowled, but smiled again, "What's wrong? Are you afraid? Or is it just that the little slut is enough for you and you have forgotten what ecstasy is really like?  Don't you remember, remember us?  I can show you again, we could be like that again if—" 

"SHUT UP," he remembered alright; he remembered all too well her touch, her kisses, and her love.  Those magical fingers dancing over his skin, it brought a shiver down his spine.  He was loosing it, loosing the control.  His eyes burned, burned and raged, with embers spurting fire.  

He remembered the love and elation, but he also had not forgotten the pain and heartache that she had caused him to endure.  _Oh no, I have not forgotten.  And I will never forget, because it burns deeply and painfully.  _

His hands began to shake; they would not obey his mind any longer.  Automatically, his fingers reached for the hilt of the sword.  Upon contact, everything was calm once more.  He lowered his head and drew slowly the sword.  Admiring the silver blade, he spoke coolly, "Get out."  

Then all of a sudden, without warning, the steel was swiftly cast into the wall, inches from her head.  A few strands of sage fell to the bed and a crack sketched itself on the wall, but that was all.  Subsequently, she found herself trapped between him, his arms on both sides of her head.  The red pools of this eyes swirling with anger, were locked on to hers, "Get out.  Go back to that treacherous master of yours, you whore."  

Consequently, he recollected himself and watched her with a piercing gaze.  Looking away, she put a hand to her neck and brushed the hair out of her face.  She seemed to glare at something for a while before haughtily leaving. 

As the door clicked shut, Dilandau fell onto the bed; his face buried in the pillow that her head had moments ago occupied, "Joselin . . ."  

An ocean of flashbacks played itself across his mind and he clenched his fists.  The anger resurfaced once more and he began to beat endlessly at the bed, growling her name each time.  Finally, he was breathing heavily with exhaustion.  Rolling onto his back, Dilandau looked at the sky, watching the silent flashes of lightning as the rain splattered against the sunroof noisily.  It was like pouring water.  Unexpectedly, he realized something, something that he wanted right now.

***

He was standing in front of the mirror, his hand touching the cool glass.  _What am I?  Who am I? Who was I?  Who was I supposed to become?  What had been my fate?  What is my fate?  It torments me.  Torments me like the moth by the candlelight.  I can't think.  I don't recognize myself . . . what have I become?  My life is a waste.  I live for nothing . . ._

The door opened and someone walked in.  In a voice that resembled a dove, the girl spoke, "Dilandau-sama, you called for me?"  

He stared at her, mystified and bemused.  She stirred a completely different feeling.  It was so powerful, so much more powerful than the anger and loathing he felt right now.  There was relief and promising release; sweetness that washes away bitterness.  The frail girl with silver hair and true blue eyes was like his light, his light through the foggy darkness.  Keeping his eyes on her, he whispered, "Come to me."

Obediently, Deré followed her master's orders.  She sensed something strange in the air, something bad and good.  A tint of worry marred her peaceful aroma as she walked to him.  The shattered mirror had been replaced as she learned that they were abused habitually.  She wondered why and what it was that allowed the mirror to so overwhelmingly captured his attention.  

He turned to face her, placing his hands at her waist, "Where have you been?  It took you a while to come."  

"Forgive me Dilandau-sama, but Lady Joselin sent me to run an errand."  Frowning, he tightened his grip and searched through her face.  He looked for anything that showed sighs of harm or injury, but found none.

"And what was it that she asked you to do?"  

Alarmed and not understanding his concern, she answered carefully, "I was asked to fetch a cup of tea. . ." she paused, "for Lord Chey."  

She saw his mouth twitch and for a second, it seemed as if he were about to hit her, but instead, he wrapped a protective arm around her, his embrace so tight she found it hard to breathe.  Resting his chin on her head, he closed his eyes.  So many thoughts were streaming through his head; the capacity of his brain felt like it was overloading.  

His masculine scent was driving her crazy, making her dizzy.  She let her head lean against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.  It was too fast, and the brief pauses too long; unnatural.  It was almost like they were swaying.  He seemed overly calm and relaxed.  

They stayed in that position for a very long time, until at last, he let her go and in a voice lower than a whisper, he spoke, "Never go near him again."  

Then he placed a hand beneath her knees lifted her off the ground.  With the other hand supporting her back, he carried her to the pillows and cushions of their bed.

***

Joselin stomped into her room and slammed the door.  She was muttering under her breath and glaring at the dark-haired man sitting in a leather chair, sipping on a cup of tea.  The curtains of the window behind him were drawn, engulfing the room in a hushed darkness.  

"That was fast, I take that it didn't go as planned?"  

Calming herself down, she walked elegantly towards the man and sat on his lap, giving him a light kiss before speaking, "I don't understand, it should have worked perfectly.  I'm not sure, but I feel as if he's different somehow."  

He set the cup on the table and combed his fingers through her hair, noticing that some strands were shorter than the others, "What do you mean?"  

The girl wondered for a while, and coming to no conclusion, replied, "I don't know.  But I'm under the impression that he has become stronger in some way.  He seems more confident and accepting towards his thoughts, they're more firm and stable.  He's no longer psychotic."  

She remembered the look in his eyes, it was definitely wild and crazy, but his actions were controlled.  He should have provoked fear in her, fear for her life.  But he hadn't.  His actions had only caused her embarrassment that damaged her pride.  In anger, Joselin raked the soft, leather of the chair with her nails, creating streaks of white upon black.  She didn't understand; this was not his style of treatment, at least not what she had been used to.  

"It's the girl", the conviction in his voice was certain.  

"But Chey, how can you know for sure.  This is not even the rumored girl."  

Under his dark bangs, Chey smiled and stroked her cheek, "My darling, our enemies can deceive us.  You must learn to understand their true intentions.  This girl, I have spoken to her.  There is something about her that impels me to believe that she is his support.  Dilandau is strong, but his mind is weak."  

***

The girl looked up at the dark cloudy sky.  Through the sunroof she could see no stars tonight.  She thought about what had happened, of today.  She touched the spot where he had left his mark, in a secret place deep inside of her.  She wondered, _will things still be the same?  Of course they would.  _

She was being silly again.  How could he?  Why would he, if ever . . .?  There was no reason.  She should not think of such things.  She was just his tool, his instrument; nothing more, and could never be something more.  He is her master and always will be.  Even though sometimes, she wished, she hoped, she fantasized, that it would be different, that they could be something else.  Something closer and more . . . she knew that it was hopeless.  The girl sighed.  She shrunk back further against the wall of the large empty room, the room that they shared, where it had all happened, since the beginning.  

_I wish I can believe it, his love for me.  Today, I almost had to will myself not to believe it.  Sometimes, his gestures and his movements hold a hidden meaning for me.  But I tell myself, that I have been misled, that they are not what they seem.  _

_Even though there is nothing more in the world that I want at this moment, than for him to love me and see me as someone more than a mere servant, I cannot ask for that.  When he sees me, he seems to stare past me.  But my manipulative mind alters it and gives me false hope.  He comes to me and calls me to him.  He becomes a part of me and I a part of him, but we are not the same and he is not my storybook prince.  I would give everything to him, everything for him.  I would sacrifice my life for him if necessary.  That, I realize, is the degree to which I love him.  _

_It has taken me forever to realize and these days grow more painful than the past.  There is nothing to hide behind as the truth is clear.  I can no longer pretend to be in doubt, because there is no doubt.  I don't now when or how the need to help him twisted itself into what I feel now, but there is nothing that I can do.  I hate myself for the way I am; I am weak and helpless.  I hate myself for falling in love with him, for being an object instead of a human being._

_They leave at sunrise tomorrow morning, for the internal continents.  A hundred soldiers under the command of General Chey arrived tonight.  They will use the Vione and other floating fortresses that have been brought.  I have wished the dragonslayers good luck and given Celena my love.  I cannot help but notice that they all seem excited, regardless of the danger that awaits them.  I have been instructed to stay at Muertia, the Vione being in battle.  Dear Gaea protect him, bring him back safely.  I love him and cannot live without him.  _

O4o86*~


End file.
